Blood
by EverythingOnceRight
Summary: "But in taking pictures of the girl I loved and our life together which happens to include cancer now, I realized how much love is just sitting around, wasted until it is too late. There is this shitty situation, but in it, you learn that little secret that not many people get to uncover. That there are untapped wells of unimaginable love beings wasted on the living."
1. Wednesday, January 4

**Wednesday, January 4**

_You have got the voice, my love_  
_To melt a lake of ice-_  
_Imagine me._

"But in republics there is more vitality, greater hatred, and more desire for vengeance," Emily continued, adjusting slightly. Her palm splayed and pressed against my belly, pushing harder with every word she spoke because of her chin. I didn't move. "Which will never permit them to allow the memory of their former liberty to rest; so that the safest way is to destroy them or to reside there."

My eyes stayed shut when she folded the book over my ribs like a sternal bookmark. Her lips kissed my skin where her chin had just bruised. Her arms moved to hug my waist. I felt her breathe, warm and soft on the sensitive skin on my stomach; I felt her inhale me absently. Her cheek was warm and soft on my skin.

"Quite an optimistic and uplifting read," she sighed, turning her head. "Are you planning on taking over a small country?" Her fingers toyed with the joint of my thigh. "Is that your final assessment? What are they teaching you over there in that crazy European school?"

"I'm going to be prince of this apartment," I informed her, stretching a bit. Slowly, Emily lifted herself. I felt her move around me, over me, hovering like a film or smear on glass. So close, but not there exactly. A mirage, but better. Skin and bones and mine. "I will make it Naomiland." I earned a small laugh and I smiled so my eyes stayed shut.

"So are you going to destroy me or reside here?" she asked, laughing quiet and secretly, trying to regain and maintain. I kept my eyes closed but I could hear it in her voice. I knew her. I'd earned the right to know her, somehow.

The window had applauded our efforts with little raindrop hands all day. Thunder and lightning harmonized with us throughout the night. In flashes I had mental polaroids of her arching back and clenching fists pulling at the sheets. For moments, the room would be bright and I couldn't see anything else. I'd keep them in a shoebox under the bed in my frontal lobe. The thunder took away the noise of the city for moments, leaving us deaf for instants until her breathing and murmuring were all that I could decipher. We pulled and clung to each other despite the deafness, bringing us back to the moment. Now the drizzle and the cold were lapping at the window, and the city was a muted grey that mumbled in the evening hours, indifferent to us at all. It made me lean into the bed more. It made me want to become part of it.

"Both," I decided. "This place is too small for two people. I obviously must slay you, or take you prisoner and keep you in the bathroom."

"What?" she recoiled, appalled at the insinuation. "What more could you need in a flat? There's a bed, and a fridge, and a shower. But, Naomiland will be missing the best part-" _The Prince_ flopped its way onto the floor as she moved. It was a soft thud, padded by discarded clothes. "Me." Her weight settled on me. I shivered in the cold that came outside of sheets and on the tips of her skin.

"Your flat is safe. I'd cramp your style here, love," I promised. When I opened my eyes they only saw eyes, big and curious and full of something I never wanted to understand. I was afraid to move. "You're a fancy intern, I'm a shitty student. You have artsy friends. I have friends who chain themselves to bulldozers. We're practically ships in the night at this point."

"Such a shame," she mocked me. "We had so much promise."

"Well, that's just the breaks, kid," I shrugged, smiling as she scrunched her face and shook her head in a laugh. "It was good while it lasted, right?"

"Meh..." she giggled when I squeezed her.

"You're a lovely student, for the record," she corrected me after a small kiss on my chin. "And my friends here adore you."

"Maybe a few might," I conceded.

We'd fought about her friends here. We fought loud and hard about a few in particular. We fought about her lack of disclosure and we fought about my dog-like need to mark my territory and growl at other dogs who sniffed around. It'd been an epic that lasted a week and involved a plethora of missed or neglected skype calls, texts, and emails. It solidified us. It was the moment of walking away or staying. Her acknowledging that her friend from the internship might have a crush on her didn't make me less jealous. But her awareness of it made me more at ease because she made the effort not to be in situations with her. She told me to trust her and I had to do that. Jealous or not. I trusted her because I cheated on her once, and I knew she'd never do that to me. That was a selfish knowledge, but I think that's the truest form.

"All of them," she decided for me. "Or they did, until I tell them that you're just a ship in the night who takes advantage of her girlfriend- making her read her Machiavelli like a servant or something."

"I like your voice," I told her. I touched her cheek and I touched her ear, and I ran my hand along her forehead. My fingers mapped her and felt her and made her real again and again and again. "I miss it all of the time."

"Now you're just being charming," she smiled, though relaxed into me more. "That wasn't in the book."

"You've spoiled me. How will I read for myself back home?"

"I can read to you still," she promised. "I will find the books here and leave you voicemails."

I liked her eyes. I liked how hopeful and big they were at all times, as if they were innocently seeing the world for the first time, every minute. Possibility sat there like a monument, rooted and firm and strong, unwavering in the face of reality, unapologetic in its need to believe in better. I could never really tell her that. I could just keep trying to give her reasons to look at me.

She didn't know it, but her gaze was a driving force behind my need to be better because when they looked at me they saw only the good I was capable of, and that was a lot to live up to sometimes. But I couldn't imagine anyone looking at me like that ever again in my life, and I craved it like the sun. Most of the time when I looked at them, I still couldn't speak and forgot what she said. I'd never tell her that. I couldn't ever tell her that. I fell in love with her eyes when we were seventeen. I couldn't tell her that either. It'd give her too much power. I couldn't. There were many things I'd never tell her with words.

"Don't go," she whispered, settling down and deep into me. I kissed her head. I let my nose warm itself in her hair. Her arms dug into the bed and around my back.

"Just a few more months. You'll be done, I'll be graduated and back for summer," I sighed. My fingers ghosted along her spine, across her back. I tried to memorize the shape of her, so it would travel with me. "And then you'll come home with me. We'll work shitty jobs and have dinner together and live in a flat smaller than this."

"Did you ever think we'd get this far? Do you think we'll make it that far?" she asked, sitting up again. The sheet I'd pulled over us fell to her hips with my hands. I wanted to tell her how much she'd grown up and how impressive it was to watch her become herself, but she looked at me, and I wasn't brave enough. I ran my hands along her thighs and smiled at her in the cloudy evening and streetlight composed light. The room was that dull gray that was just enough light to see, but not enough to feel lit. I could see her, but almost couldn't. She was a figment of my imagination come to realization, made of smoke and mirrors and impossible.

"Honestly?" I asked, seeing her. I wondered if she saw herself like I saw her. She nodded. Her hair was messy from the past sixteen hours we'd spent in this bed without moving except for snacks or drinks. That was part of our saying goodbye. We did the same thing when I visited in the fall, and when she came home for Christmas. There was a need we both didn't acknowledge to curl up into a ball and ignore the impending outside world. New Years had come and gone, and I was due to leave shortly. Our world was barricaded, for the moment though, and I had a naked, smiling girl on top of me. "Did I think I'd be with you in a small, shitty, overpriced apartment in New York?" She nodded. "Did I think we'd be together nearly five years later?" She nodded again.

"Did you think about any of it, for us?" she stopped me from buying more time. She moved her hair that'd fallen in her face. I was busy trying to memorize this moment. I had to make this last until May.

"I'd hoped it. I wanted to be here," I decided. "Some days I remember thinking, there's no way she's going to want to keep me around. I'm a twat..." she laughed a bit. I would keep trying to do that too. "It's true. I was a twat. And I'm trying to grow out of it." I squirmed under her. She made me honest, even if I hadn't been honest yet. I was quiet and she let me be. Her fingers folded and her palms mimicked where _The Prince_ had just been. She held herself up and pressed on my ribs. I heard car horns and sirens a few blocks over, because the apartment was so quiet with just our thoughts swirling about tirelessly. "But I knew I wanted to be here. I knew I wanted you, wherever that led."

"You're my twat," she finally decided, quite seriously. I smiled and watched my fingers touching her hips. I pressed them into her flesh slightly.

"There was a moment," I swallowed. I could be a bit more honest for her. That was how I kept her- surprising her with moments of honest in my sarcasm-laden natural register. "There was a moment. It was a Thursday. You were wearing my old shirt, the one with the bleach stain and tear in the collar. And you were curled up in my chair, and didn't know that I was looking at you. And I was so tired from working in that shitty restaurant," she nodded and smiled, remembering my stories and rants. "And you were furrowed and bothered and biting your lip with this concentration... And I couldn't move for a moment. It just made sense. I was exhausted and I'd been stiffed and we'd already spent a semester apart and I was scared out of my mind. I don't understand it, but it made perfect sense," I laughed because that was all I could do when she was so intently looking at me. "I knew that I wanted something. I knew I wanted you and I wasn't going to let anything get in the way of it. I wouldn't let myself want it, but I wanted it anyway-"

Emily leaned forward and kissed me. Her hands clamped on my cheeks and held me fast while she kissed me breathless. I grabbed her harder, thankful she didn't make me keep trying to explain. Thankful she probably didn't need that long to decide that she wanted me. She was better than me in that way.

"You are such a twat," she pulled away. I was canopied in her her hair and it blocked the world around us.

"I knew we'd be here," I promised. "I'm so proud of you. So so so proud of you."

"Ah geeze," she burned crimson. It fogged up our little nest.

I kissed her like a fiend. I kissed her because the clock said we'd have to head to the airport soon enough and I wouldn't be able to kiss her like that in just a few hours. I kissed her because she made me laugh when I didn't want to and despite myself. I kissed her because she read my book to me. I kissed her because I was in awe of her and she didn't even know that and I couldn't even tell her. I kissed for a lot of reasons I was too distracted to think of as the kiss wore on. And she scratched at my shoulders and kept me close with her lips and her teeth. That told me I was hers. She clawed me to pieces. Her back flexed and moved, graceful and smothering. I rolled her and pinned her and made her mine. Right there on her foreign bed in her foreign city with foreign rain beating a foreign beat, I carved out a place for myself in her world still. I wanted to leave bits of us on the sheets. I wanted her to crawl in her bed alone later in the night and never forget I could do this to her.

The same happened in the shower when we regained the ability to walk and the alarm went off for us to get up. She slapped my butt and laughed. I pinched her sides and tickled her until she got shampoo in her eyes. Time continued to squeeze us and impose itself. But for a few shining moments, she made clocks obsolete.

I cleaned as best I could when I sent her down the block to get us some food and coffee. She went to _her_ shop. Her apartment was small. I hadn't exaggerated that. But it was cozy enough for her. I made the bed and put her clothes in the hamper. I washed a few of our dishes and cleaned up a bit of the residual mess and took out the trash. I left one of my shirts and stole one of hers. My suitcase somehow packed itself and slept imposingly by the door, both with souvenirs and dirty clothes and pictures inside, waiting to join my collection back home.

I tried not to spend too much time looking at her pictures. They covered her wall by the small desk in the corner. They were all so beautiful and reminded me that she was here, and should be here. The ones that were ours though, those were my favorites. That was a biased opinion. Us at the Empire State Building. Near the Statue of Liberty. At a bar with her friends. In Times' Square. She covered the tourist side of things for me between working and keeping me locked in her bed. Those pictures, those were my favorites. Emily liked the others. She liked the ones of me, drunk in the middle of the street. And the one of my back in the sunlight in her bed. And the ones I never knew she was taking. The ones of back home. The ones of all of us from when we were younger. The ones of us in London. The ones of us in Manchester. The ones of us everywhere. I could read our history like hieroglyphics on a cave wall. It felt as primal.

"It is dreadful out there," Emily came in with a flurry. New York looked good on her. She knew her neighborhood, she knew the subway, she had her own set of locations. She bloomed here. "We're going to have to leave early for the airport. The bridge will be a disaster."

I sat on the edge of the bed while she pulled up her desk chair and we made our own table on the edges of whatever we could reach.

"You never told me which ones your boss liked," I observed the wall again as I picked at my sandwich.

"I'm not sure," she shrugged. "We were working on this set before the holidays, of this expensive editorial, and I couldn't take anything from it. I got some, he liked. But for my portfolio, I'm just... I don't know..."

"Have you decided which ones you'll hang in our flat?"

"Obviously all of the naked ones," she smiled into her cup, giving me a mischievous glance.

"Right, can you imagine, giant vaginas and tits on the wall when my mum visits, or yours!" We both laughed too hard at it. Maybe desperately. Maybe because the truth of it was too stark.

"I have to find something, though," she sighed, gazing at her wall. "I have to do something that will make this internship worth it all. If I can't get a quality connection back home, I'm back where I started when I was in school."

"You can't rush art. It's not in a rush to be made," I reminded her. "I think some pretentious girl once told me that when she was nervously applying for a fancy internship."

"I'm going to have to rush it," she leaned back, still fixated on the wall. "I'm not top of my class." She threw it like an accusation. I've never heard a compliment used like that before, or quite so well.

"You should hire someone to read you important philosophical treatises," I explained, obviously.

"Don't go," she asked again, finally turning to me. Her eyes made me hurt this time. Mostly because they were the same as before, and the possibility of hiding away with her sounded so reasonable and was just a bit farther away.

"Come here," I sighed, putting down my cup. Slowly she slipped into my lap. "We both have to do this. This year is us, growing up, I guess. We can't go anywhere together unless we do this year apart, chasing dreams and such."

"I know," she agreed. "I miss you, though."

"Yeah, me too," I agreed. I dug my nose into her shoulder. I took a big breath. "We're almost there though."

"Okay, okay," she steeled herself. I tried to follow suit. She hugged my neck and kissed my head. "I'm done, I promise."

"We should head out, yeah?" She nodded and we took a moment before standing and gathering my bag.

The ride to the airport was quiet. We'd gotten quite good at this whole routine. It didn't make it easier, we just got more experienced.

She went as far as she could with me and we stood like statues, neither willing to crumble first.

"Have a safe flight," she fretted with my collar. "Let me know when you make it, okay?" I nodded. She was clutch in these moments. I was not. "Please don't be sassy with the agents this time at security." She was joking but worried at the same time. I smiled and nodded. "I will see you soon," she promised, leaning her forehead against my nose. I kissed her and hugged her. "In May, you'll have a bigger bag, and this is the last time we have to do this, actually," she realized. "I'll be going back with you next time." She was smiling wildly now. "Well that's good news." I agreed.

Emily kissed me as hard as she could, tiptoes and clutching fingers included. I melted and gave myself one more minute of being lost, even if that meant I'd be last on the plane.

"I love you," I sighed, eyes still shut.

"I know," she smiled and re-straightened my collar.

"Get back safe. You have enough for the cab?" she nodded. "Any other words you'd like me to pass along to your sister or our friends?" She shook her head this time. "I should go." I swallowed.

"I love you," she smiled. I kissed her one more time and gathered my things. It was a slow walk, but I only turned around when they checked my passport. She waved, leaning over to see me behind the line. I blew her a kiss and left her standing there.

I wasn't sure which I liked being more, the one left or the one leaving. Both were shitty. But the ridiculously long flight was definitely the losing side. If I knew Emily, she'd go home and clean her already clean apartment, to keep busy. She'd return emails and work from her desk for as long as she could sit still, and then she would debate what to do, stuck between wanting to take a walk and wanting to never move. She'd elect to return to the bed, and search for bits of me there. My coffee cup might sit on the counter for a few days. My book would remain on the floor.

"How was your trip? First time to New York?" the polite gentleman beside me asked as we leveled off in the air. I absently drummed my fingers along the book in my lap.

"Second, actually," I nodded, nervously looking out the window, as if I'd see down into Emily's apartment, as if I'd be able to differentiate it from anything else in the garbled net of dark streets and illuminated buildings in the city. "It's not so bad. Big, but most cities are in their own way."

"That's generous," he smiled. "What brought you to town? Business or pleasure?" I tried not to laugh.

"I was visiting my girlfriend, so definitely pleasure."

"She's American?" he asked. He seemed interested. He seemed nice enough.

"No, she's British as well. She's just got an internship with this photographer she loves and she couldn't pass up. And I wouldn't let her."

"And what is it that you do?" he adjusted and waited for me to continue.

"I'm just a student in London. I study political science and history."

"Two impressive sounding young women," he decided.

"We try," I smiled. I was proud for a moment, because to this perfectly nice stranger, we were impressive and we had the world spread wide and waiting for us to conquer. "You'd never believe that we were once punk kids who had no idea where they were going."

"I believe it," he chuckled. "Everyone has been that at one point." He was gracious.

"And you? Business or pleasure?"

"I went to meet my first grandson," he smiled. "Would you like to see pictures?" I didn't, but I nodded anyway because he was nice and thought we were impressive and renewed my faith in my decision. He was a cute enough kid. Babies were all pretty much undistinguishable blobs to me at that point anyway.

"He looks lovely," I offered, hoping it was the proper thing to say.

"He's magnificent," the man smiled, staring at the picture again.

I spent a good portion of my flight speaking with my neighbor. It made it easier, as opposed to the wallowing I was prone to taking part in on the red eyes. He gave me his card as we departed, and he wished me well. I wished him better, and apologized for not being important enough to have a card yet. He told me it wouldn't be long, he wagered. That was nice.

"Hello, stranger," Effy greeted me with a large hug when I found her outside of immigration.

"You're a sight," I sighed, tired and weak, it finally catching up to me that Emily wasn't here.

"How was it?"

"Perfect."

"You still in love with her, then?" she asked, following me towards the baggage pick up area.

"Unfortunately." She smirked.

"You're not going to be those college sweethearts, are you?"

"Hopefully."

"Well," she sighed, squinting against the sunlight of the early morning and pushing the sunglasses onto her nose. "What did you bring me then?"

I filled Effy in on my week in New York, and she filled me in on what I'd missed. London woke up as we took the taxi to our flat. The day was the opposite of what I left Emily in, and it felt wrong. But we rode along and got to our flat, and I felt like I'd only told Effy about a fraction of what I saw and what happened. She listened attentively, though I knew it bored her greatly. Being happy and functioning and resigned to a future was foreign for myself and downright insane for Effy. She spurred me too, though. Motivated and self-assured, she grew up and she made me grow up in different ways.

The flat was the same as when I left it. Effy was good at barely existing and leaving no footprint. I was tired, but I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to spend the day doing nothing. But I had classes starting in a few days. So I did the wash and I gave Effy her souvenirs, and I hung more of the pictures Emily took on my wall. I wanted to call Emily, but instead sent her a response to the email she left me, and resigned myself to wait until she woke up to go to work.

The first day back was always so strange for me. I was suddenly alone again, and I did my chores and I tried to keep busy. It's always weird though, to get back to normal. I kept waiting to see Emily in my flat. We'd been spoiled. Even though she went to university in Manchester and I went to London, we saw each other every weekend. In two hours, I could surprise her for the day whenever I wanted. In two hours she could appear in my flat. If I wanted to see her, I could. It worked. We worked. This year I felt so far removed. I was just sad.

Time wasn't stuck anymore, so much as it was lethargic and unyielding. I wanted it to pick up, I wanted five months to pass and be on a plane again. Instead I was stuck in this mock normalcy of chores and daily activities that made my head explode. I was waiting for life to start.

Eventually the busy work and my buzz from being home wore off, and I slumped into my bed. It didn't smell like Emily's bed, and it didn't feel as nice. The sun was deceptive in my window. I craved the rain that had been blurring her windows.

It still wasn't a reasonable hour to consider waking her, so I settled with my book. Slipped in as a bookmark was a picture of us that I'd forgotten about, with my hand holding the sheet over my face and her eyes peeking over my head and laughing. I could practically hear her laughing with the picture. It was blurry and so wonderfully alive. I searched ever millimeter of it, trying to find every bit of us in it. Sometimes I didn't think I could ever be as happy as her pictures made me look. And then I realized that they couldn't capture half of it. I held it above my head, mimicking what she'd done with her camera, and I stared at it from varying distances until I found the back, in her short, sweet little scrawl.

_There was a moment. It was a Thursday. You we wearing that cute little apron and you smelled like smoke and coffee. And you closed my computer before I realized you were there, and you kissed me so sweetly and told me you loved me with a sureness I'd never heard before. We'd spent a semester apart already and I knew you were scared, and I was scared, I still am scared. But I knew you were mine. I knew you were mine forever._

The picture fell to my chest and sat there while my arms fell to my sides.

"Fuck."


	2. Friday, May 19

**Friday, May 19**

_Depth over distance every time, my dear,_  
_And I may be foolish to fall as I do__._

I was early when I caught the F. I was on time by the time I shoved myself into the 6. And when I came stumbling out of the station on 116th and Park, I was only five minutes late.

Spring settled in the streets, lush and vibrant and so warm I knew that summer would melt the concrete and the steel in the buildings. Trees were in bloom and the aroma from the park followed me around from block to block. Today was set to be hot, and I knew it already in the waking hours. Even people walked a bit slower in preparation and in obligation of the blooming happening all around them. Except for me. I had a moody boss and a day of holding up lights and reflectors that I was already late for, and that didn't afford me the luxury of a meandering pace.

"Hey babe," I told Naomi's voicemail as I sprinted across the street, weaving between standstill taxis and cars and pedestrians, balancing my equipment bag on one shoulder and my print folder sandwiched under the other. "I'm nearly to the studio. I just wanted to wish you luck on the interview. Knock'em dead, tiger. I'm sorry I was so busy yesterday. I'll be home tonight after work. I love you. Call me after just to let me know how it went, yeah? Now go kick ass."

"You're late," Sam greeted me as I shoved my phone into my pocket and entered the studio in a perpetual whirlwind. He was on time because his parents could afford to get him a place in a neighborhood that began with Upper. I didn't care. I lived where Jay-Z was from, and no one could take that away from me or my tiny closet of an apartment. They couldn't take the angry neighbors, or the sweet newspaper man near the subway, or the couple that owned the bakery, or the angry cliental of young professionals that were stuck and unaware that the promises made to their generation were lies who frequented my bar after long hours on Wall St or Broadway or anywhere in between. I think I'd walked nearly every street in Brooklyn, taking pictures, finding things to keep. It felt like home, a bit. It was filled with people who fascinated me and who made being away from my friends somewhat normal.

"It's your bloody subways," I informed him, slipping behind the desk and dropping my bag. "They're never on time and they smell like piss." He laughed and didn't move a bit while I took off my jacket and tried to make it look like I'd been there for a half hour already.

"You've been here for what?" he folded his long frame over my desk and picked at my muffin I'd grabbed in my sprint from the station. "Ten months? I think you'd have figured it out by now."

"I've figured it out," I slapped at his hands. "I just can't seem to leave early enough." I yawned and turned on the computer at my desk. Intern translated into receptionist, gofer, equipment lackey, and a vast array of other unglamorous and belittling titles. But some days, it meant that I framed shots, and took tests, and I got to watch Cooper Reed in action, and he looked at my shots and he sent me to meet people who looked at my shots and used me as their own lackey, and who spoke to me about taking pictures. So answering emails was okay, for all of that.

"Someone needs a bedtime," he taunted with a mouthful of my breakfast.

I liked Sam well enough. He was polite and a native of New York, which was helpful in getting used to the area. He was ungodly tall, which made us a funny looking pair, that was the first thing anyone noticed about him. His hair was black and short and echoed in his clothes which were often dark and looked as if they draped his slim frame. His long face reminded me of someone who always wanted to smile, but it never quite fit on their face just right. It didn't stop him. The only problem was the way he looked at me sometimes. I fought with Naomi about it, and I think it was rightly so, though I'd never tell her that. Sam wasn't worth it. I'd told him so a few times.

"I don't," I argued weakly. "I was out at some bar in Soho shooting this band's show until a ridiculous hour. They did like nine encores."

"How was it?"

"Fucking horrible," I ran my hands along my cheeks and squeezed. "They sounded like putting a chainsaw and a roll of quarters in a dryer on tumble for four hours."

"What did it pay like?"

"That roll of quarters," I sighed and looked at him weakly, still supporting my head in my hands. Sam laughed. He had pretty eyes. Naomi didn't understand that I liked them because they were about seven shades darker than hers, but the closest I came on a daily basis to having them. "Okay, not that bad, but it was barely worth it."

"You're going to have the most diverse portfolio at the end of this," he offered as I took a bite.

He was referencing my inability to say no to any job that came up on the side. It included head shots for off-off-off broadway actors, and people playing basketball in the park, and interiors for real estate groups, and buildings for architecture students, and bands who wanted quality shots in action or for promos, and families for Christmas cards, and seniors for graduation, and basically anyone who didn't even want their picture taken, but I saw them on the street and wanted to experiment, and all of that along with whatever I did in the internship, which was editorial and portraiture and occasional journalism if I ventured across town to Cooper's friends.

But I had to save some money, and that was the only way.

"I guess. It's just... I want to be Dorothea Lange. I'm not even close to a Sears portrait taker."

"There's still another month left in the internship," he offered. "Maybe talent strikes in the final moments."

"Hopefully."

"I do like your work though," he gave me a smile and leaned over the desk as if it were a secret. "You're more talented than you think, you just haven't had the inspiration you're craving."

"You're a bloody fortune cookie now?" I scoffed and chewed and logged in.

That wasn't fair. He had to have a good eye. He was interning in the gallery downstairs. I just didn't trust anyone because he was right, I hadn't found that spark. That thing. I hadn't struggled to find my moment and exposed it violently in fevered and gentle urges.

"Listen, there's a bar opening a few blocks over, and I've got the models from the shoot yesterday coming, and a few of the guys," he offered, disregarding my comment. "You have to come."

"I can't," I shrugged and started filtering through email.

"Hot date?"

"I honestly don't know," I sighed.

It'd been days since I'd spoken to Naomi other than infrequent texts and occasional short emails. She was in the middle of wrapping up her degree, finals, papers, and on top of it she'd been given a few interviews to prepare for at a few nonprofits and some politician's office. We'd been stuck in ruts of phone tag before, but this seemed like a marathon game, and I was over it already. I'd been over it three days ago. I'd been over it six days ago.

"Then you're definitely coming with us tonight," Sam decided, patting the desk and righting himself. I knew that if I went with them, I wouldn't talk to Naomi. If I left work at five, I'd make it home by seven if I stopped and picked up food. That'd make it midnight her time. Today was Wednesday and that meant Naomi had her early class on Thursday. And if I went out, I wouldn't get home until she was getting up for class.

"I can't," I decided. "It's been too long since I fell asleep with a phone plastered to my face."

"You're hopeless," he relented.

"Go downstairs, Sam," I waved my hand as I read my computer screen.

"Alright, alright," he put up his hands in surrender. "You'll miss me though." I shook my head and ignored him.

My morning was finally allowed to start as the slender-man made his way downstairs. I made coffee and put out stuff for the models. I set up what I thought might be needed. I scheduled the appointments and forwarded ones that Cooper should see. I did it all well, because I was good at it and I'd perfected the routine early on in my training. I saved emailing for last, so I could check my own and anxiously wait to hear from Naomi. The only thing waiting for me was another email from Katie making sure I knew when she was coming. Unenthusiastically I replied, checked my phone, and threw it on the desk when it was blank as well. _  
_

"Morning, Emily," Cooper greeted me a second later, just before I convinced myself to try Naomi again. "Ready for our day?"

"Always," I smiled. Today started as if he were in a good mood. He could change with the wind, on a dime, before I realized, right under my nose.

"Awesome. Why don't you let me do some things in my office and set out your choices and we'll go through them?"

"Of course," I stood. "Here are your notes," I handed him some slips of paper. "I pushed your spread until next Tuesday because you'll be pressed to get to the gallery opening on Friday."

"That's what I like to hear," he smiled at me and flipped through his slips. "I don't think I've run this smoothly or efficiently before. I might not be able to let you go." I gave him a small gracious smile and sat back down when he walked away.

I didn't want to think about what he said. To think about it would complicate a future that was already wonderful, and I was good at doing that without his input. With another cursory check of my phone and a blank return, I took out my prints and put them on the table for us to mark up and so I could get his opinions. It was my favorite part of the day, but also the most terrifying.

Instead I set out my pieces, the ones I was hoping to whittle my portfolio down to, at least, the ones I felt most proud of to an extent.

"You look like a woman on fire," Cooper startled me as I bore down upon my pictures.

"Just looking," I promised as he sauntered towards the table. He had a slow gracefulness to him, so that each extension of a limb was purposeful and exact, fluid and measured. He joined me on the opposite side of the table and searched with me for a few moments in silence. He was always so still, letting the moments happen around him, non-active, but not passive, simply free flowing. I tried to do that, but I was rubbish at it.

"I like this one," he held one up and examined it. "This is one you did for Eli?" I nodded and tried not to watch him watch the picture. He furrowed his brow violently and flexed his jaw. He was full of niceties until it was time to work, and then he devoted nine-tenths of his entire being to whatever was before him, and in that I'd learned focus and what it took. "You can nearly hear them screaming," he murmured, nodding, flexing, eyes scanning every inch of the protest I'd done for his online newspaper friend. "The focus here is on the wrong face, though," he put it down and pointed, circling with his finger. I nodded. "It feels detached, almost."

"Eli picked it," I offered. He nodded as well, though that did nothing to interrupt the furrow.

"It feels like this one lacks your style, or the style of the rest," he pointed to another. "I can almost find the rough blob of a style here, but this one is an anomaly."

"Okay," I agreed.

"This one," he pointed to the one I'd purposefully hid for fear of him actually seeing it. "I want more of this. This is where it is," he leaned over the table as I had been a few minutes before, shoulders hunched and arms out like a giraffe drinking, neck craned and heavy with peering. "That light," he stood straight to look at the picture from a distance. "The placement is so natural," he complimented me. "It's almost right. There is almost raw skill." That was almost a compliment, so I was almost happy.

"It was candid," I conceded.

"It feels stolen," he decided, debating. "But the body language feels so telling. I like it. I feel like there should be a before and an after, like this is a middle piece, but it's better that way."

We both stared at Naomi on my fire escape. Her face was blurred as her arm moved to push her hair around on her head. I'd been toying with the used camera she found at the Goodwill near my apartment. Other than that, the rest of the city behind her was still, caught in the sticky heat of August you could see in the sunlight, special to just that time of day and year. Her other arm stood out like a flag pole, spliff as far from her lips as her fingers allowed, pre-flick. In her blur, I saw her face though. I remember sitting with her because the flat was too hot, and we drank and watched the lights come on in the city across the river. I don't know what we spoke about, but I remember laughing. Sweat clung to the back of our necks and we were a baked kind of tired that came in spending the day ducking into shops to avoid the pavement and sun and fucking in sticky sheets. Our bodies full of vitamin D and brimming with toasted melatonin. It was languid. That was how I wanted her, languid and content and full of possibilities.

"Work from this space," Cooper told me after a moment. "Figure out what you are saying here, and do it again." I inhaled and held it before blowing it out in my cheeks. It was a hefty order.

Luckily he only had mildly positive and negative things to say about the rest, some technique and technical pieces of advice and direction. But I could tell they weren't impressive. Thoug it was the best 15 minutes of my internship.

The rest of the day was spent in a mess of helping him set up and shoot some magazine. Sam popped up for a minute just to give me half of a sandwich, which I ate in bites between running around, setting up, and shopping for props and whatever else anyone could want. And I cleaned up when everyone slowly filtered out into the evening, putting everything back, just as I'd taken it out. I dreamed of one day having my own intern. That was the real dream.

"You know Amelia will want to see these," Cooper reminded me as I grabbed my bag and folder. "She's quite taken by you."

"She'll get the finished set," I decided.

"Show her those," he looked thoughtfully at his own work, as if he weren't really interested in addressing me. "Give her a reason to pitch you to the board."

"I couldn't do a show, not with these," I shook my head.

"Trust me," he put down his sheets. I weighed him, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. "Fine," he shook his head with a goodhearted sigh. "Take the weekend. Find me something and I will pass it along whether you like it or not."

"You have the shoot at the bridge tomorrow," I reminded him. He was already shaking his head.

"I don't care," he decided. "No intern of mine will leave without their own show. I have to whet your appetite. And Amelia won't stop asking about you." I gulped. "So find more of something, and make it worthwhile. I won't have you leave with nothing more than a recommendation as a secretary." I looked at the ground and gnashed my teeth between my cheeks.

"I'll see you on Monday then," I offered.

"Just leave the door open, okay?" he looked up finally. I nodded. "Have fun," he instructed. I gave him a weak smile and left, finally.

My walk was slower than in the morning. I let myself be taken by the slow sunset and need for the city to cling to daylight just a bit longer. Cooper's words bounced around my head. I hadn't let Naomi meet Amelia, because I wasn't stupid, and I knew it was a fight in the making. She would tell me that a gallery owner wanted to put my stuff up at a personal price. I would tell her to piss off. The truth was, Amelia was more threatening than Sam.

_"Hi, love,"_ Naomi poured out of my voicemail. _"I know you're working, just thought I'd try you on my way to the tube. The interview went about the same as the others. I am going to pick up from that Indian place by my flat,_" she sighed, heavy and tired. If there was anything I'd learned, Naomi during finals was a stressed and perpetually exhausted Naomi. _"And I'm going to take off this suit, and get the shitty wine my mum bought last time she was here, and watch some telly like a fat, belly-scratching man_." I smiled outside of the station and listened to her finish. _"And wait for you to call, because I shall not be missing that tonight. I love you. I hope you had a lovely day. And I will talk to you soon, I hope." _

I got on the subway happily, and the smell and the frowning and exhausted people that were stuffed in around me didn't bother me as much. I picked up food without a second thought to Amelia. The belly-scratching girl in London was it, and I knew that. Maybe that was why I was so uncomfortable with the idea of being put into bed with the gallery owner. At the same time, distance made me both sure and scared at the same time.

I turned on the light in my apartment and opened my containers, throwing my heels into the closet. My clothes came off while I grabbed a beer from my bare fridge. I found the shirt Naomi accidentally left for me and pulled it on, digging deep to find any trace of her on it.

"Hello, stranger," she answered on the second ring.

"Hi," I slithered into my chair and started eating.

"Hi," she said again. I could hear the smile start. It was only after seven my time, but I could feel this tired and relaxedness set into my bones with it.

"Hi. Did I miss dinner?"

"Only by a few hours," she offered. "What are you having?"

"Shitty fish and chips," I sighed, having another bite. "You know that place by the station?"

"Why do you torture yourself with that?" she chuckled.

"I honestly don't know," I swallowed. "But I'm starving and I hate grocery shopping. Tell me about your day. Or your week. Tell me everything."

Naomi yawned and started telling me about her week. About her classes and papers and the prick in the library who wouldn't shut up while she studied, and the party Effy threw that wouldn't end, and I asked her questions between bites. She was tired and ready to graduate. She spent some time telling me about her Mum wanting to visit in a few days, and seeing my sister, and flat shopping for us in September. She told me about her schedule for the rest of the week and how much confidence she had or was lacking in her classes.

"You know that girl, Lane, from my second year Social Politics class?" she asked.

"Umm... yeah, I think so," I pulled at my brain to recall it.

"I ran into her at that interview on Monday," she explained. "She invited Effy and me to a party on Saturday." And then I remembered her, and I remembered how jealous I'd been of her at some night in a pub with her and her cohorts. I fucked Naomi right there in the bathroom. I enjoyed it, but it wasn't about that for me. It was primal.

"That should be fun," I offered, not knowing what to really say.

"It'll be a nice end of the semester," she decided.

I didn't have anything to say to it. I just fiddled with the food that had become unappetizing as my stomach filled and I remembered that girl. I hadn't been on this side of it in a while.

"I don't like not talking to you," she finally said in the quiet. "It makes you feel so much farther away."

"I know," I agreed. "I don't like it either. Things will calm down. You've gotten busy with finishing up, and I'm just a mess."

"Sometimes I get mad for no reason," she confessed, not noticing my attempt to lighten the conversation. "I've been so mad, missing you. I always feel like we snap at each other."

"Me too," I confessed. "And I know it will get easier. I know it."

"We're just frustrated by miles," she decided. "Do you ever get afraid that we will outgrow this?"

I thought about it for a moment because I'd never thought about it, at least not in such blatant terms. There was nothing stopping her from finding someone who maybe had her interests, or liked her bands, or cooked better than I did. There was nothing stopping me from staying in New York. Except there was.

"Yeah," I decided. "But we outgrow together. We outgrew Bristol. We outgrew uni. We'll outgrow distance."

"Have you been reading my book?" she laughed a bit. "You're charming."

"No," I lied. The truth was I had. I set myself up in the park by the river and read _The Prince_. I understood it on a basic level and I was afraid I didn't understand what Naomi might understand. I tried to read what she read, but most of it was non-fiction and impossibly boring. I did check them out of the library and try though, sometimes. "Now will you tell me about how was the interview?" I finally asked, tossing the carton of half-eaten food into the fridge. I took the last swig from my bottle and threw it in the recycling.

"Ugh..." she moaned. I had to get us away from her overworking thoughts and the girl who like her and thoughts of distance.

"Come on, I want to hear about it." I opened my window and sat there with my legs in the spring night. I tucked them under the big shirt and I huddled on my corner of New York. I watched the lights across the water and pretended that I was watching London and Naomi was somewhere in there, doing the same.

"I'm not getting my hopes up. I didn't get those other two..." I could hear the dejection in her words.

"You didn't want those other two," I reminded her. "Not like you want this one."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I want this one."

"I know, love," I promised. I leaned my head against the window. "You'll get it."

"Don't," she sighed. "I just want a job at this point.

"You will get one. You will get the one you want," I promised harder. She'd played this part for me, numerous times. It was easy. It was natural.

We were quiet on our respective ends. Sometimes I liked that. I couldn't begin to tell Sam what this felt like, having her beside me and in another hemisphere. One night in a bar was worth missing for this moment. There's no way to articulate that in terms of distance. Everything just faded away, and my conversations at work were forgotten, and my crappy commute was erased, and for a moment I was very content, which is a very different emotion than happy, made of the same things, but influenced by others and to varying degrees. It was the closest I got to being with her, and when I was with her I was automatically better, for some reason. She made me more. More everything.

"Hey beautiful," she whispered. "Tell me about your day." I could hear the tired in her words.

"It was great," I lied. "It's coming together." I didn't have trepidation when I spoke to her. I didn't allow myself to betray the uneasy feeling in my own abilities. I wanted her to be proud of me. As proud of me as I was of her, and that this internship wasn't a waste of a year apart.

"I liked the pictures you sent me," she told me. "They were amazing."

"You have to say that."

"I don't," she argued. "I believe it."

I could hear her moving around. I heard her sheets shuffling. I looked at the sky and couldn't find a single star. The constellations were in the buildings, now.

"So what are you wearing?" I asked jokingly with an outlandish purr for good measure.

"There she is," Naomi chuckled. "Goes through the pleasantries just long enough for phone sex."

"I'm a girl with needs," I shrugged, hoping she'd hear it.

"Are we alright?" she asked, quieter than a sigh.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I miss you."

"You still want to live with me?" she had a bit more voice.

"Yeah," I leaned my chin on my knee and closed my eyes. "Are you tired?"

"Exhausted," she yawned again.

"I should let you sleep then."

"Just a few more minutes."

Cars passed on the street below me and I heard the rickety racket of subways in the distance. Noise from a bar thumped into the street, angry and boisterous and drunk in celebration or mourning or for no reason other than to be alive. Windows betrayed other lives happening, unaware of my existence in the world at all. My neighbors were having sex. The others were screaming at each other. Soon they would switch roles. A soft breeze played stickball in the streets between traffic.

"So about that phone sex..." I propositioned.

"You read my mind."

I left the window open for the first time this season and crawled into bed.


	3. Tuesday, June 21

**Tuesday, June 21**

_My eyes were dark 'til you woke me  
And told me opening was just the start.  
It was. _

"It's lovely, isn't it?" The voice was soft and thoughtful, so much so that I barely heard it above the standard din of the swirling drinks and fancy talk.

"It's amazing," I smiled slightly and didn't even look at whoever the voice was attached. I surveyed the portrait in front of me and I searched every inch. I was afraid I'd never understand Emily. I knew that she blew me away with skill, but I wanted to understand it like everyone in the room professed to do. But I wanted to do it better than them. "It's amazing," I sighed, toying with the bottom of the glass in my hands.

"I sold this one to a publisher," the voice continued. I was too busy looking at the next picture to bother to talk to her. I'd had my fill of small talk. I just wanted to look like I hadn't been allowed to do in the hours I'd been at the opening and the days I'd been neglected while Emily put it together, never allowing me to visit. "It should be the cover of an edition of a new book sometime next winter. Is there anything you're looking for?"

"I'm sorry?" I finally turned to the woman and stopped my slow, deliberate steps.

"You look thoughtful and intense," she smiled graciously. "I want to know if there is any way I can help you decide to take one home with you." She was pretty. Slightly taller than myself, round face, slender shoulders, pretty mouth. Pretty in a New York kind of way. High class and intelligent.

"I actually have more than enough Emily Fitch pictures at my place," I chuckled gently. I saw a flash of recognition in her eyes then. "Yes, I believe I am the one in _A Sunday Tired_. And no, I didn't know. And yes, I am going to kill her." _  
_

"Naomi," the woman smiled.

"Guilty," I shook her hand. "You must be... Amy?"

"Amelia," she corrected. I knew that. I just wanted to make her feel insignificant.

"Apologies," I let my hand drop. "It's nice to put a face to the name finally. All of the stories I hear are so colorful and exciting. I like meeting the co-stars of Emily's escapades."

"Likewise," she pulled back. "I'm sure you heard it all night, but your girlfriend is extremely talented." I had heard it echoed from every conversation and every person she'd worked with while in the city. Each time didn't diminish my beaming pride. Instead, I felt it glow and explode on my cheeks with every mention. I felt like a silverback gorilla, wanting to thump on their puffed chests to let everyone know how amazing their girlfriend was. I'd come close a few times, but refrained for the time being.

"It never gets old," I promised. "She never believes me when I tell her how amazing she is. Maybe now with a room full of people she'll listen."

"Doubtful."

"Oh I know." We shared a short laugh and nod of understanding. "Thank you for doing all of this."

"It was my pleasure. Emily's been so much fun to work with for the past year," she smiled. It was a sweet and sugary smile that left me feeling uneasy.

"She's something," I nodded and drank.

"When did you get in?" she grabbed a glass from a passing tray. "I feel like I've kept Emily here for the past week under lock and key getting ready."

"Just a few days ago." I watched her sip. "I didn't want to distract her too much from this. I kept myself busy in the city."

"How long are you staying? Emily mentioned spending the summer here," she prodded innocently.

"Just under a month longer," I recited. "We figured we might as well as make use of her lease. What could be better than New York for a summer before we head back home for fall?"

"Well, I just hope I get to see more of her work once she goes back with you," she shrugged.

I looked over her shoulder and found Emily in a cluster of people. I smiled slightly and gave her a quick wink. She smiled in the middle of her sentence and continued talking through it. She turned and looked at the portrait behind her, following someone's finger as they discussed something or other that I would pretend to understand. I could barely tell her what I was thinking, let alone try to compete with the critics or scholars or whatever that spoke so intelligently about her work. I just wanted to tell her that they made me feel and see things, like the closest I'd ever get to seeing how she saw the world, or at least part of it, and that also made me feel and think and see things, but I couldn't figure out what they were. All in all, it felt inadequate. I had a knack for wordlessness though.

"Pardon?" I asked, catching only the last bit of Amelia's words. The little brunette in the short blue dress made my mind incapable of functioning on higher levels. Her sweet smiles and her coy glances and her all around confidence was daunting and distracting to ungodly levels.

"I'm sorry, you probably think everyone is out to keep her prisoner over here. I bet half of the editors have begged you to stay," she laughed and airy laugh. I played along despite ignorance. That was the key to cocktail parties. "I just can't believe she passed on Cooper's offer." I stopped mid-drink and stared at her. "I've never seen him offer a full-time position. That's why I hope I get to see her work, that she'll still come back and show. Her prints are selling."

"She's a free spirit," I observed, drinking slowly and finding Emily's eye again. She played absently with the necklace I'd given her before we arrived and laughed at something someone said.

"She's hell on fire," Amelia was looking over my shoulder at Emily's work. "How long have you known her?"

"Since we were twelve," I remembered.

"No wonder she's going home with you," the owner observed. "I should head over and say hello, excuse me."

"Yeah, of course," I nodded. "It was nice to meet you."

"I'll see you, I'm sure," she decided, already shaking hands with some bloke and directing him to another wall.

The drink burned my throat but I downed it hard and took another to last me the rest of the night. There were many things in my head after my introduction with Amelia. Like she was pretty. And Emily barely mentioned her, which seemed off. And the fact that she never told me she got the offer to stay and work. And that her work was popular, and she was doing well, and she was already successful on this scale.

The hour sleepily crept by and I kept looking, taking the time to see her work in a proper place. Maybe things were going too well for us, and this was the beginning of the end. I wanted to know if she wanted to stay here. I wanted to not think about what that meant for us. We hadn't been properly together on a permanent basis for so long. I was looking forward to it. Maybe I could move here if it mattered to her. I couldn't figure out why she wouldn't tell me.

Soon enough another group enveloped me though did nothing to dislodge the swirling thoughts that nagged at me. I'd met Sam a few times in my visits. It was never enjoyable because he didn't have enough pride to not look at my girlfriend with puppydog eyes when I was beside her. But I stomached him for her because jealousy was ugly and would ruin anyone's relationship. And she needed good friends, and besides the eternal love, he was good enough. Sometimes I felt like I grew wise and strong in our relationship. Emily and I fought to varying degrees. Sometimes about something as simple as a rude joke, and others about important things like career and friends and family. I felt so comfortable though, but now, more and more with all of these people around, all of these stories they had of her, all of these things they said about her, I felt my safe spot crumble and grow fragile.

"'Ello, stranger," Emily found me in a small group of people. I listened and answered if asked anything, but more often I just wanted to hear what they had to say about my girlfriend while I debated the information I was learning about her. "Mind if I steal this one?" she politely asked. A gentleman nodded and the rest smiled. Her arm slithered around my waist and guided me closer.

I let Emily lead me out into the street. The air was warm and humid, prickling at my skin and slathering summer all over my dress. The light from the gallery lit up the sidewalk but we hid in the dark corner in the middle of the busy street's sidewalk.

"I haven't had two minutes with you all night," Emily leaned against the brick corner of the building. She pulled on my neck and kissed me. It was soft and simple and she smiled the entire time. I could practically get high off of her. "Hi."

"Hi," I smiled and leaned my forehead on her forehead. Lazily I kissed her, dripping them upon her in the summer heat.

"How has your night been?" Her fingers tickled the nape of my neck and kept me securely in her grasp.

"I've been fielding people's questions about you," I informed her. "Told them all you wet the bed until you were eleven. And all about Mr. Elepants."

"You didn't need to bring him into it," she scolded me. I smiled remembering when I found her childhood stuffed animal.

"Don't be ashamed."

"Every artist needs a thing," she shrugged and laughed. "Thank you for doing everything, all of this. It means a lot to me that you're here. I know I've been busy. But I'm yours for the rest of-"

"I'm so proud of you, Ems," I hugged her and kissed her to make her stop talking. She would say the perfect things. "You might never know how proud I am. Thank you for inviting me."

"I have an idea," she giggled into my neck. I squeezed her in my arms. "Do you want to head home?" She looked guilty and suspicious all at once. I wanted nothing more, but I also was suddenly afraid. Amelia nagged at my brain.

"Why didn't you tell me about Cooper's offer?" I ignored her question. She pulled away slightly.

"What?" She furrowed. That was her tell. I could find her out in a second. Her fingers slid down my shoulders and held there.

"Your gorgeous gallery supervisor was begging me to let you stay, as if I had a say in it at all," I informed her. "Something about an offer that was once in a lifetime."

"I don't... She isn't... It wasn't..." she shook her head. Tell number two.

"I don't care if you take it or not. Not at all. If you want it, then I support you. If you don't, I support you, as long as it is _you_ deciding," I explained. "But you have to tell me." I watched her shrink between me and the wall. I didn't like it. I actually hated being someone who could do that to her. "I love you. I only want to know what's going on. I fee like a tit here. Everyone's probably looking at me like I'm making you leave, like I'm a horrible person. And I didn't get a chance to tell you that I don't care where we are. But now I'm the person that doesn't give you a chance..."

"I don't want to stay here," she sighed. Her head lulled to the side and she looked at me sadly. I felt her fingers toying with my dress.

"Not because of me?" I asked.

"You're part of it," she shrugged. I sighed this time. "No, come on. Do you want me to lie and tell you that you had nothing to do with it?" I shrugged this time. "I want to take pictures that do something. Cooper is editorial, and I've learned from him, but I just... I want more. It's not a great fit. I did take the time to think about it, and I thought about it hard."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she smiled, soft and sweet and content. "It was never a thought. It was never something I even considered. You weren't a factor, but you're a bonus."

"Because I can move here," I informed her. She kissed me then. Grabbed my ears and jumped up and grew to be the tall girl I remembered just five minutes before in the gallery. I could taste champagne on her lips.

"We're going home," she insisted after pulling away. "My girlfriend is going to work as a lobbyist for the World Cancer Research Fund. I am going to take pictures." She wrapped her arms around me. "That's all I want. And I want to go home, with my family and friends. I'll find another job, one that I want."

"You have to tell me things," I reminded her.

"I know," she gave in.

"I'm so frustrated with you," I grumbled, holding her cheeks. "But I'm so proud and happy. I hate you for making me feel things."

"I'm such a jerk like that," she laughed. "I'm sorry, okay?" she held my cheeks now, too. "I should have told you, but I knew you'd make me think about it and fight me on it, and I didn't want you feeling responsible."

"That's sweet and all, but seriously... we're better than that."

"I know," she sighed. "Now... about that s-"

"There you are!" A voice boomed from the door of the gallery. I pulled away like a guilty teenager in Emily's room when her mom walked in on us. "Come on, Emily, we have to celebrate."

"I'll be right in," she called.

"Come on, kid," Cooper waited. "I need to stake my claim as mentor for when you overshadow me one day."

"Let's go," I smiled and pulled her back this time. I wanted to be more mad, but I wasn't going to ruin her night. It was hard to be mad for long because she made good points, and in the end I guess I won because she was coming home with me. I could get mad and tell her to stay, but she didn't want to, and I had to trust that it wasn't because of me. Or at least wasn't majority because of me. I made a note to tell her that I'd quit my job for her. I hadn't even started yet and I would have quit for her and moved here. We didn't have to make decisions separate. I wanted to remember to tell her that. But I didn't want her to reconsider. I wanted what I got. It made me uneasy nonetheless.

"Here you are, ladies," Cooper handed us flutes of champagne and toasted my girlfriend.

We had more drinks with everyone after that. Emily didn't let me disappear though, and I didn't get to look at her work anymore. People left and the crowd dwindled as the night wore on, but we just kept drinking. I saw the champagne giggles in my girlfriend. She talked about me like I talked about her- brimming with pride and hope and the possibilities of the future, as if we were both titans. And her friends might have liked me, so she must not have told them that I was a ship in the night.

"Listen, I just want to thank you all," Emily began after a few drinks and a lot of laughing and everyone applauding and urging her. "This has been an amazing experience, and I feel so honored to have met you all. And if any of you make it across the pond, I will be happy to see you." A few people exchanged eager words. "This was something I never considered, and I'm glad you all had some small part in making me do it. Thank you Amelia and Sam, you guys have been a family away from home. Cooper, you've been the most amazing mentor and your advice and experiences shared have been invaluable to me." I watched the tall man pat his chest and bow towards her. The only ones left were the core, and I understood her need to be gracious. "And I'd be remiss if I left out my favorite person in the world," she pointed towards me. "My best friend and conqueror of my being, the beats in my heart and the strength in my spine, I couldn't have dreamed of any of this without you. You've changed my life and I love you, Naomi." I smiled and winked and drank with her sentimental cheer. I was a balloon that only needed one more blow of pride to explode.

I let her hug everyone and take pictures and I hung in the back, waiting for her to say her goodbyes. I had plans to keep her locked in my kingdom for a week. It'd been too long, and she'd been too busy since I arrived. Now I was going to make her mine again. I waited in the back for that. I grew anxious and eager. Eventually she came up to me and told me to take her out of there. I couldn't move quick enough. I said quick goodbyes and nice to meet you's and I pulled her back into the night and into the back of a cab I flagged on my first try.

"That was nice, wasn't it?" she asked, looking at the passing street after I gave the driver her address.

"It was amazing," I promised her. "You are amazing."

"I sold rights to my pictures," she smiled widely. I felt her fingertips on my thigh. Her hand was warm and gentle, tracing the tips along my skin below my dress. "It went really well." She was worlds ahead of me and ready to be prisoner in my kingdom.

I handed the cabdriver more than enough money and pulled Emily from the car. She fiddled with the keys and I snogged her in the elevator. When I watched her trying to open to door I noticed how bright red her neck and chest had grown and I felt cocky and proud. The necklace I gave her stood out, gold and proud on her chest. I kept my crappy waitressing job an extra month just for that.

"Get out of this," I pushed her against the door when it shut behind us. I didn't move to turn on a light. Her apartment was lit only by the vague traces of a streetlight below, sneaking in through the window. I tugged on her dress. I tugged on her hair.

"Help," she turned over. I kissed her neck and fumbled gracelessly with the clasp. Her hips never stopped leaping towards me. I pushed it to the floor, angry at the imposition. I held her neck and I kissed her. I held her to the wall and I kissed her, trailing my fingers along her collarbone, over her chest, down to her hips. Her back leapt towards me, begging for me closer. Her tongue left me breathless and eager. I squeezed and grabbed and held and pushed.

"Fuck," I sighed into her lips. She captured me again and deftly her fingers pushed my dress away. We were breathing like sprinters. I stepped forward slightly and held her into the wall, skin on skin on skin on skin. "I love you," I kissed her neck. I tasted the sweat of the summer under her jaw. I felt her hands in my hair, pulling me somewhere and keeping me stuck where I was at the same time.

Sloppy, drunk sex was my favorite at the moment, and the only thing on my mind.

Emily's murmurs were in my ears, spurring, making me ache. I'd do anything for that. I felt her stomach muscles contracting with my every touch. I felt her moving and I was consumed.

I wasn't sure how it happened, the fact that we lost our last bits of clothes and somehow ended up on her bed. But we did, and I watched her breathing, or at least trying to find normal breathing patterns. Languidly I kissed her face and tried to mimic her. I kissed her cheeks and her eyes and her nose and her chin and her shoulders and her neck, soft and long and tender was all I could manage.

Emily's hands were touching me everywhere, soft and long and tender along my temples and cheeks and neck and nose and lips.

"Yeah, I can get used to that," she murmured.

"Agreed," I nodded against her cheek.

"It was the speech, wasn't it?" she turned towards me.

"Totally," I nodded again, eyes closed and hands focused on somehow touching her. I played with her necklace.

"You think you want to maybe marry me one day?" she asked, quiet as the night.

"I'm sure we'll get around to it someday," I shifted so I was hovering over her once again. I'd never thought much of it, honestly, but that was a statement that I knew, even in the haze my brain was stuck, was not a good one to say.

"We are so dreadfully busy," she nodded solemnly. I kissed her slow. I slipped my leg between hers and anchored my hands beside her head.

"I've got you booked up for at least the next four weeks," I smiled against her lips.

"Right, right," she pushed her hips against me and hissed against my neck.

"One day," I promised her. "We'll make it proper. I'm sure you'll make an honest woman out of me yet."

"I'm not worried. I'm getting all this milk for free," she slid her hands down my back.

"You are so very practical."

I knew we weren't leaving the apartment anytime soon, and soon I forgot to even worry about marriage.


	4. Friday, November 7

**Friday, November 7**

_Breathing is easy.  
All is not lost.  
I am not lost._

Just as it had every day in the past week, the alarm was disorienting and came accompanied by the morning grunts of waking up unexpectedly. I rolled over, fumbling in the darkness to smack at it while trying to bury my head in the pillow for a few more minutes.

"Uff," I smacked Naomi's stomach with my dead hand I'd slept on and I had no control over. She stuttered and huffed. I held her as she turned to try to shut of the screaming machine beside our bed. She rolled back, not making the movement to get out of bed just yet.

"Mmmm," I hummed and pulled her closer once it stopped. My words weren't working yet, but I kissed her neck and rubbed my nose along her spine. Her back arched into me, against me, curling up as if I could eclipse her completely. "Mmmm," I hummed and smiled into her skin. I heard rain on our bedroom window. I could spend six more hours in exactly that position. The world could burn and flood and erupt, and I'd be pretty happy right here.

Our flat was nothing special, but it was everything I wanted with her. At the end of the day, it was our own little slice of heaven, our own little escape where we could lock the door and watch a movie and go to bed at the same hour and in the same place. We could forget about the floods and the tornados and the earthquakes outside and we had a slice of us and only us. I'd woken up next to her for the past five months, and I was awfully happy with that fact. Katie called me a sap for being so happy, but deep down I think that was a compliment. My mother wasn't even as hateful as she could be. After Naomi and I were together for so long, she kind of had to acknowledge that it wasn't just a phase. When we got a place together, my mother even sent us a house warming plant.

Five months of this was kind of amazing though. It'd been the longest we'd lived together on our own, consecutively. It felt good, it felt right. More importantly I couldn't imagine another present for myself. This was what I wanted. I had absolutely no regrets about leaving New York. I think that spoke volumes. I think that said everything I needed.

"Morning," Naomi sighed, rolling over and slipping her arms around my waist. We felt at each other like newborns, unable to open our eyes, just grabbing at each other in the cold of the flat.

"Mmmm," I returned as I slipped my fingers under her shirt and into the elastic of her bottoms. I pulled her hips towards me. I kissed her neck, lazy and sleepy, as she stretched and yawned. Her body heat kept me close.

"Go back to sleep, love," she insisted. Her lips were warm on my forehead and cheek and lips before she disentangled herself from my clingy hands. I liked the sleep in her voice. Her waking-up voice was one of my favorites. It was rough and full of sleep and full of sighs. Naomi was always so together. In the morning, when she woke, she was not in control of it's cracking and splitting and gravel.

"I'm up," I promised. "I'm up." When I opened my eyes I could barely make out Naomi's form against the dark windows. I stretched as well but stayed in bed, rolling into her warm spot, now vacant. I heard her chuckle when I closed my eyes. I heard her shuffling and I saw the light come on in the bathroom as she started the shower.

Reluctantly I kicked off the blankets and got out of bed a few minutes later. Some days I stayed in bed when Naomi got up to go to work. Sometimes I was just crawling into bed as she was leaving if I had a late shoot. But today was important. She'd worked herself raw on a project she was presenting, her first major contribution since starting three months ago, and she was dying of nerves, though she'd never admit it. It'd been nights spent at the office for the past week. It'd been weekends spent filling our tiny table with stacks of papers and notecards. It'd been me, hosting her colleagues, making them snacks, ordering food, cleaning up after them like a sixth grade science fair mum. But it was nice, to see her work so hard, to want something so much. Sometimes I remembered the angry, violent teenager I fell in love with because of her lofty ideals and pessimistic optimism about the world. When she sat with her coworkers and spoke with conviction, I was a dopey, dreamy-eyed teenager again as well. I wanted her to know how proud I was of who she'd become, but I didn't know how, exactly. Instead I saw how I was still like myself back then. I watched her and smiled and believed she could do anything.

Sleepily I trudged into the kitchen, feet freezing on the floor, eyes burning in the blinding light. I started to brew coffee and turned on the news. Rain slicked our windows and blurred the world just outside in the gray dawn day. I opened my laptop and sat at our counter, rubbing my sleepy eyes as it loaded my email and the kitchen started to smell like morning. I had a few job offers I would respond to shortly. There was also one from Sam begging me to come back. There was one from Katie, begging to come visit.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and prepared Naomi's like I knew she liked it. We lived together just a few months, but I learned these things. I learned things that were different from the summers we spent in her bedroom, or on weekends or long visits during school. I learned that she was shit at being quiet. There was always something happening- music, television, mumbling. She drove herself crazy in the quiet. There was also the fact that she cooked, so much better than I did, but stomached whatever I tried to make anyway. And the way she made our bed. And the way she turned her phone off and spent nights with me. And left notes on the counter if I was ever out and she left. And her aversion to grocery shopping. And the way she stared at my pictures and tried to speak. And the way she couldn't put her clothes in the hamper to save her life. Or the way she left books propped open on every surface. There was a lot to her, to living with her. But there was a lot to me and living with me, and most days I was grateful to just sit beside her on the couch and watch television before bed.

"Well this is just unfair," her arms slid around my waist. "You look so cozy." I smiled and shut my laptop when she kissed at my neck.

"Perks of not having a stable 9-5 career," I smiled and slid her mug towards her. "I made you coffee."

"I love you," she smiled and turned me around, pinning me against the counter. "You're too good to me."

"You look real nice," I straightened her already straight collar. "You're going to do so good. These people are going to give all of their money. And tonight, I have plans for you."

"Yeah?" Her smile grew, slow and wide, and her eyes even got in on the action. Her hips pressed against me. I didn't mind being trapped there. I could live trapped there. I could set up permanent residence and never move again. I played with the nape of her neck. I leaned towards her.

"We will celebrate your amazing work and finally finishing this pitch," I promised, pulling her flush with me. "A romantic dinner, with candles," I continued, toying with her, wanting to kiss her but staying away to drive her crazy. "Cheap wine. Slow jams. And lots, lots, lots," I kissed her slowly with every word. I rubbed my hips against her. "Of dirty," I bit her lip and pulled. "Dirty," I sucked on the soft spot on her neck. "Dirty," I pressed my palm on her lungs and bit her jaw. "Sex." I felt her shiver on me. Her forehead fell to my shoulder and Naomi groaned and clenched my hips.

"I should call in sick so we can get right to it," she said hopefully. I handed her the mug of coffee and kissed her cheek.

"You have a busy day," I reminded her. "Don't forget that Dr. Cotter wants you to call him. And Katie is coming up next week. And your mom wants you to call her. And you have to get that guy from work something for his birthday. Oh, and rent is due Monday."

"Don't you have the wedding today?" she asked, absently looking over the city outside of our window while she sipped.

"Just engagement pictures," I reminded her. I pulled a banana off of the bunch and put it in her bag. "I will be home in plenty of time to romance you and set up for our special night."

"Special, huh?" she rinsed her mug in the sink.

"Something like that," I smiled weakly. I should have been less surprised that she forgot our anniversary. I thought the fact that she'd been oblivious to my hints was cute and her way of downplaying what she wanted to do for me. "You better head out, love." I looked at the clock behind her. "Traffic will be shit in the rain."

"Alright, alright," she sighed, catching the clock. "I will see you later. Good luck on your shoot today. Wear a coat, it's supposed to rain nonstop and I don't want you sick." I watched her grab her bag and I stayed leaning against the counter. She held my cheek and kissed me.

"Knock'em dead, tiger," I cheered her on.

"I'll see you tonight," she promised.

She disappeared a second later and I was left in the kitchen with the news talking to itself and the rain streaming along the windows. I took a moment to stare at the door and sigh. I was going to make it the best anniversary ever though, and make her feel super guilty about forgetting. Because that was what love was, deep down. I was going to out-anniversary her, and anniversary her so hard she never forgot. And in doing that, I would ensure that I was off of the hook for the rest of ours in the future.

I showered and cleaned up the apartment before I had to head out to meet the couple I was taking pictures for in the afternoon.

Tonight was going to be perfect. I had been planning it in my head since she kissed me at my gallery opening. I'd pick up flowers and her favorite dinner. I'd have soft romantic music. I'd have the room lit by candles. I wasn't even going to try to cook, but I was going to get her favorite meal. And there would be the most delicious cupcakes I was going to pick up from her favorite bakery. It was going to be the most relaxing and romantic night that we'd ever had together.

It wasn't that we weren't romantic, so much as we never fed into the standard chivalrous forms. We rarely got each other flowers because neither of us liked them terribly much. We were simple and we grew up together, eating pizza on the floor of her bedroom, drinking gas station vodka. We never shook those habits. For anniversaries we were more of the adventurous type. I got Naomi and I tickets to a football game one year. One year we went to the coast and stayed in our hotel ordering room service and watching daytime television. Tonight was going to be a new step.

"Hello, dear," Gina greeted me as I pulled on my coat. I balanced and switched the phone on my shoulder while I grabbed my bag.

"Hi, Gina," I smiled and surveyed the clean apartment once more time. The table was set. The bed was made. I'd run errands after work and light candles and get flowers.

"Well this is a nice surprise, I would have thought you'd be busy," she smiled. I liked Naomi's mother. She took to me quite nicely as well, and I think it was a relief to Naomi, except when we would gang up on her and conspire behind her back.

"Just heading out to a shoot," I informed her. "I kind of just wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing."

"Ah, I had a pep talk all ready for just this moment."

"I'm not scared," I amended. "I just want to make sure that you think she'll say yes."

I made a day trip Bristol three weeks ago. I told Naomi that I was shooting a house for a realtor and I would be gone late, and I hopped on a train and went to her mother's house. I knocked on the familiar door and set my feet and squared my shoulders and when she opened it and smiled through the confusion I told her that I wanted to marry her daughter. Gina invited me in and told me to sit. When I did the air dropped out of me and I felt like my chest had lost its puff.

A sandwich and a couple of cups of tea later, Gina gave me her blessing by hugging me tightly and telling me to call her mum. I think it was when I told her that I loved Naomi even when she was grumpy. That was the moment. Or maybe the one when I told her that I'd keep her happy, no matter what. Or that I loved her so much I was sitting there asking for her mum's blessing. It might have been when I confessed that I couldn't imagine my life without her.

"I'm excited to hear what she says as well," her mum laughed. It wasn't encouraging. I pulled my hood up as I ventured out into the street.

"That's not helpful," I sighed. The cold of autumn was nipping at my nose.

After I left Gina's I didn't get on the train and go home. I went to my house and I told my dad and I told my mum that I wanted to ask Naomi to marry me. I actually told them that I was going to marry her, but that felt so presumptuous at the current moment. My mum and dad both cried, though for different reasons, and they both smiled through it for the same one.

"She loves you," Gina promised me. "Now don't worry and just get on with making me some grandbabies."

"Do I have to explain to you how this works..." I trailed off and earned a laugh.

"You know what I mean," she chided me. "Good luck, Emily. I know that it'll work out. My girl's become unrecognizable and I am not unaware of how much that has to do with you, and she isn't either."

"I know she loves me," I conceded. "I just don't know if she wants to marry me."

"If it's important to you then it will be important to her," she sagely explained. "Just be honest, and tell her what you feel, and it will work out."

"Thanks, Gina," I smiled and nodded, steeling myself again.

"Maybe don't tell her the bit about grandbabies just yet."

"Yeah, good plan," I agreed, feeling not so much better, but slightly more at ease. "I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, honey. Let me know how it goes!"

I pocketed my phone and hid my hands in the sleeves to keep warm. I met the couple and I took their pictures and I promised them that they would be lovely despite the weather, and if they didn't like them we could try in the sun one day. They were cute and in love and the entire time I wondered if I'd make Naomi do this. I decided I wouldn't. I didn't really want the act of getting married. I just wanted her to be mine, and be contractually obligated to love me.

The flowers were difficult to carry, but I did the best I could as I ran from shop to shop in the constant rain. I grabbed as many as I could grab, and I juggled a bag full of candles as I made my way back to the apartment. I felt like I was fluttering. My hands shook as I lit the candles. I cut them to pieces when I tried to put the roses in vases. I set out the food in proper plates as if I'd cooked it. I showered and put on the dress that she liked to see me in; the one with the straps and the heels that made me not feel so small next to her.

As time ticked by I grew more and more anxious, if that were even possible. The night grew dark until I couldn't see anything distinctly outside. The rain made it obscured and streetlights brimmed and ebbed as I paced through the living room, carefully moving this and that an inch this way and an inch that way, and into the kitchen where I would sip wine, then adjust the lights again.

And then it got to be past the time when she should have been home. I let it go for an hour.

"Hey, Noams, I'm just wondering where you are," I sighed into the phone. "I'm kind of worried. Let me know if you had to stay late or something. Hurry home. Your magic evening with me awaits."

I tapped my fingers on my phone and continued to pace. It was much later than when she normally got home. I walked so much I had to take my shoes off. And another hour passed, just as slowly as the first.

"Okay, I am convinced you are dead in a ditch, so I will call the police soon," I worried into the phone. "And I'm going to eat your food which is getting cold. Please call your girlfriend shortly, while she is still your girlfriend."

I'd been ready by six. I wrung my fingers and watched the clock turn to ten. I couldn't make myself sit, even though I wanted to when I turned on the television and expected to see a huge pile up in the tube. Unfortunately, the news was the same news, and no catastrophic meteor had hit the other side of the city leaving Naomi stranded and unable to reach me. I paced and flipped the channels just as nervously anyway.

"Yeah?" I picked up my phone as it buzzed on the bookshelf.

"Whoa, there," Katie laughed. "I thought you'd have your tongue in some orifice by now, but I figured I'd call and see if I have a new sister-in-law yet."

"You're hilarious," I gritted my teeth and angrily shut off the television, tossing the control onto the couch much more violently than I would have normally.

"Wait, why are you answering? I seriously was going to leave a message," she explained.

"Naomi bailed," I seethed and worried all at once. "I haven't heard from her all day."

"Fuck," Katie sighed. "Something probably came up, Ems. She's always so predictable."

"Yeah," I suddenly was hit with the need to cry. Her words were an excuse that I wanted to believe, but I wouldn't let myself think of anything more important. The only thing more important would be a Godzilla like creature which impeded her from physically getting home. Or she really was lying bleeding in a gutter.

"Are you still going to ask?" Katie tried.

"I think it's pointless now," I shrugged for myself.

"You don't want to marry her?"

"No, it's not that," I shook my head. "It just doesn't feel that special tonight anymore. I wanted it to be romantic and sweet. Now I feel all angry and worried and I don't want to feel like this when I ask her, it's bad luck."

"You're angry," Katie observed.

"Rightly so."

"Rightly so," she agreed.

"I mean it," I sat in a huff. "I wanted it to be us, and to do something special like I've never done before, and hit all the romantic and cute things and make it a perfect night. Now I can't get past her being late and careless and on top of it forgetting our anniversary."

"Yeah, that's the doghouse for her," Katie agreed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I stood up and started to pace again. I stood in the middle of our apartment and I looked around at all of my work. "I shaved my legs and everything," I sighed. Sadly I blew out a few candles.

"I'm sure there's a good reason," Katie tried again.

"That just makes me more worried," I leaned against the wall by the bedroom.

"Don't," Katie soothed.

"I'm going to clean up."

"You want to talk?" she asked, big sister and all.

"I'm fine," I said again.

"I know, but I can hang out," she offered.

"I'll talk to you later," I decided.

"Alright, well let me know what happens. I never in the world thought I would ever say this..." She inhaled a heavy breath. "But Naomi isn't so horrible. Other than tonight. I mean, I never thought you'd last a year, and now you guys just... I don't know. I believe in it. She's not the worst person you could choose to end up with."

"Normally I'd agree with you." Katie laughed and that helped for a moment.

"Call me tomorrow."

"I will."

"Don't worry."

"I'll try."

"Bye, kid," she finally said. I hung up and threw my phone on the counter. I wanted to throw it at the wall and watch it gratuitously explode into a million pieces, but what if she called?

The rest of the candles filled the apartment with the smell of smoke when I blew them out. The glass of wine that I chugged and gargled made me lightheaded enough to pick at the already cold dinner before I put it away. A picture of us smiling at a football game met me when I closed the refrigerator door. Our grocery list that grew throughout the week. A magnet poem she'd made about my boobs. Our favorite take-out places' menus. A picture of us in Times' Square. A magnet from our trip to Spain. Naomi grinning from ear to ear with Effy at some party. Me and Katie and Naomi at Christmas. Kissing Naomi on New Years. Photobooth strip from the fair. I leaned my forehead against the metal of the fridge amidst our lift together and shook it with my eyes closed. I could feel anger in my cheeks.

"Can you just let me know you're alright and alive?" I asked her answering machine, not moving from my spot. "I'm really starting to freak out here." I waited an extra few seconds before I hung up, as if she'd answer me.

I wasn't sure how long had passed before I heard her keys in the door. I'd given up on my dress and changed. I'd given up on romance, so I turned off the music. I gave up on everything, so I began editing the pictures I'd taken in my corner of the couch. But I stood up and felt a relief and a flurry of anger that told me it had been a long time. Each minute fueled my wrath. I felt like an angry wife, hands on hips, ready to pounce, but also make sure she was alright before I did it.

"Hi," she said weakly, slowly locking the door behind her. Her hair was slightly damp from the rain and her hands constantly fluttering with it.

"I've been worried sick," I stood tall and righteous. She had the sense enough to look guilty. "Seriously, I've been going crazy waiting for you. Where have you been?"

"I needed a drink after work," she decided to tell me the truth. I watched her weigh it. "I needed many drinks after work," she amended. I watched her smile and I watched her eyes not watching me. The shifted to the ground while her fingers fiddled with her key ring. She was drunk. My teeth gnashed themselves violently behind my lips.

"You should have called," I kept the anger simmering despite the fact that she looked like a kicked and abandoned puppy. "Seriously, Naomi, how hard is it? A text? An email? A tweet? A fucking carrier pigeon?"

"I lost my phone."

"That's no excuse," I shook my head. "I was sure you were hurt or something or worse yet, just a jerk who bailed on their girlfriend to go do something else. Looks like I was right."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I just... I needed it."

"I don't even want to talk to you!" I raised my voice, hands swelling and moving like a conductor during an angry, dark piece of Beethoven. "I can't even look at you, I'm so mad. You knew I had plans for us, and I was working hard on them."

"I forgot."

"That's swell," I stalked into the kitchen and poured myself another glass of wine. "You just took it upon yourself to go out drinking, and not even tell me. It's so inconsiderate, Naomi. It's rude. I worked really hard to have a nice night with you, and you knew that. Don't tell me you didn't. I'm so fucking mad!"

"I know."

The rain was still tapping against the window.

"I've never seen you act like this," I said after a large gulp. "And it's infuriating. I don't even know what to do!"

"I'm sorry." She kept her head down still and took the scolding like a good little girl who was afraid to upset the teacher and unaware of how to act when she did. "I won't do it again. It was just... tonight..."

"Happy Anniversary," I decided was an appropriate thing to say. Slowly I watched her whiskey-tinted eyes look around the apartment. They bounced from bouquet to bouquet to wax-dripped candle. I drank and emptied the glass and watched her come to the realization. My back grew stiff with pride.

"Fuck," she sighed, running her hand over her forehead and down her cheek. Slowly her eyes met mine and I saw them grow red and rimmed. Naomi fell back hard against the door as if the wind had been knocked out of her, her back smacking squarely there. It didn't phase her. She just stared at me with glassy blue eyes as she shook her head. The door was the only thing keeping her upright. "No, no no no," she begged towards the ceiling. I wanted to move, but everything kept me firmly attached to the floorboards across the room from her. I watched her wrestle and struggle with herself. She shook her head and closed her eyes and took large breaths. She did not stand, but she righted herself slightly, still needed a crutch. Her jaw was violently set, strong, ready for a punch. Her shoulders were wide. Atlas looked upon her with envy.

"I have to tell you something." The eyes that she gave me stirred something deep in my gut. I knew that I wouldn't be asking her to marry me anytime soon. I knew that it would change the world, the next words out of her mouth.

I heard the rest of her words when they came out of her mouth. I even saw them come out, before she held her hand over her mouth and let out a tiny sob that gave me chills. But despite hearing and seeing and feeling, I didn't compute her words; they never rang true or understood in my head. Instead they just clanged and bounced about like incoherent strings of adjectives and verbs and nouns.

Naomi slumped to the ground against the door. In her coat and with her wet hair and hands over her face, she reminded me of a child, innocent and scared and ineffectual.

"No," I said, unaware of my voice or where it had come from. "No," I shook my head hard. "I don't believe you." We stayed like that for a few minutes; me in the kitchen, shaking my head, and Naomi trying to breathe on the floor by the door. She stared at me, defiant and drunk, defeated and sorry, nodding and affirming. "No," I repeated. "No, it can't. No."

Sadly, Naomi just nodded slowly and her lungs stuttered to breathe.

Slowly I eventually understood what legs were for and I walked towards her and knelt there in our living room. I pulled her to me and kissed the damp part of her scalp. I kissed it and I kissed it and I kissed it and I rocked her like a baby. I wasn't sure who it was for, exactly. We both needed it. Our anniversary was forgotten. My anger dissipated so quickly I forgot I could even feel like that.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed into my shoulder. I felt her hands pulling at the fabric of my sleeve. "I'm so so sorry."

"It's okay," I promised. "It'll be okay," I chanted. "We'll be okay," I swore. And I kissed her more often than I breathed. "It's okay," I promised. "It'll be okay," I chanted. "We'll be okay," I swore. And I used my other sleeve to dry her face. And I used my arms to hold her and squeeze her while we rocked on the floor.

Right there in the doorway I realized I might never get to ask her to marry me.

I tucked her under my chin and ran my cheek along her hair. I ran my hand along her shoulder, gripping whatever I could. I hushed her and I kissed whatever I could reach and I promised whatever I could. I knew I was crying, but I couldn't put words to it. I just let my cheeks grow damp. We were both stuck in an semi-tearful state. Not knowing what to feel or do or say. Instead we just clung like newborns to the only source of comfort we could understand.

"I couldn't tell you," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I had to tell you."

"It's okay," I lied. "It's okay," I promised. "We can do this."


	5. Sunday, December 23

**Sunday, December 23**

_Give me your eyes, _  
_I need sunshine._

"Okay, you have to stop," I grinned and stretched, sore as I was. I heard the click of her camera and the wheeze of her shutter. I pulled the pillow over my head and hid from her. Her legs went around my hips and she settled there, pulling up on my shirt. "Emily," I warned and sighed all at once. My stomach stuttered and ached as my muscles reacted to her soft and gentle fingers.

"I wanted to see it," she insisted, pulling away my pillow. "And you." I scrunched up my face against the winter sun that came through the window. "You look very cute when you nap. So quiet. So unlike when you're awake." She was happy and teasing and it was infectious.

"A real wise guy," I laughed. "Now I sound like a toddler," I complained, allowing her to snap her camera one more time before I grabbed it and tossed it to her side of the bed which was filled with papers and things I'd been working on pre-nap.

"Hey," she protested. Her hand pushed on my hips and hurt, but I swallowed the grimace and pulled her over me.

The camera I bought her for ten dollars at the Goodwill was permanently attached to her these days. I was her project, and I let her use me because I knew that she was afraid and she deserved it. She photographed my hips and my scar. She tried to document us together to a new degree. I didn't mind it usually. I gave in and I hid and I played with her because she needed it. I think it is hard for her to see things with her eyes. I think she needs a filter and a lens. She had to be removed to keep her sanity, and I was too real for her. Emily made me her project because she was scared. I let her for the same reason.

"Hi," I returned as I grabbed her head and brought her lips to my lips. I did it quickly and purposefully.

For just a few minutes, kissing Emily was like disappearing. Like I never existed while the seconds passed us by and took no notice. Carefully she hovered over me, wary and distracted by where her hands were allowed to go. She was the most beautiful thing in my life. She was the reason the sun rose every morning and the reason the stars stared at us jealously. She was the reason the mountains stood and the rivers ran through them thunderously. And there was no way I could articulate that to her. I could barely articulate it myself. So I kissed her breathless and hoped it would keep her around for a good while.

"Mmmmm," she hummed against me, pulling away decidedly. "Behave yourself." My hands were still north of polite, though steadily moving south of proper.

"I let you take your pictures," I complained. "Give me some sugar."

"I have to work on dinner," she reminded me, dismounting. "And you are getting all kinds of ideas..."

"You're the one who interrupted my nap," I insisted, pulling her back into me. Her giggles stopped the moment I yelped. "Fuck," I hissed and locked my jaw. Emily hopped up quickly. My body naturally curled into itself.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry," she rushed. I grabbed my stomach and shut my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"I'm fine," I managed. "Forgot about how sore I was for a minute." I let myself peak at her and found the familiar worried and scared look there that she often tried to hide, but inevitably failed. I smiled to put her at ease because for a moment I had forgotten.

"You still have about a week of healing," she reminded me. "Doctor's orders."

"Sometimes I want to forget that I got my insides scooped out like a grapefruit," I laid flat and ran my hand over the long, slowly fading scar that made a straight line from my bellybutton and south. Emily didn't like when I spoke like that, but sometimes it popped out without a thought.

"It'll fade, soon," she promised. I saw her eyes on the scar.

Emily had been fascinated by it. She called it magic. She laid her head on my ribs and she traced it and kissed it and told me it saved my life. She made me oddly proud of it, as if I'd done something brave, as if it weren't malicious, as if it were a choice I'd made to be better. She worshipped it. I think it was to make me not self-conscious about it, which I rightly so was. But she was effective. She would place her palm, flat and wide across my lower abdomen and tell me she loved me in a voice that was probably more honest than anyone would have a right to be. And I would smile and nod and try to remember every minute of the bare weight of her hand, or the look in her eyes, or the smell of her perfume, for days when I was self-conscious.

"I know, I'm sorry," I sighed. "I was just caught off guard. I'm okay."

"You have to be more careful," she scolded me. Her eyes reminded me of warning and the night of our anniversary and the afternoon I woke up after surgery and the first morning I was back at home.

"I will, I promise," I smiled my biggest smile and pulled her again, despite her resistance. "Just kiss me better," I begged. I'd used it a lot on her, and always earned a smile when things got too heavy.

"I'm going to punch you right in the nose," she fought with sternness. I laughed at her threat and kissed her anyway. "Why don't you come work in the living room. I'll help you move."

"If you could just take my stuff. I'm going to change before everyone comes over," I gingerly picked myself up. "Thank you, love," I waited until she grabbed my papers and notepad before letting out a breath from moving.

I stood and took my time changing. My scar just grinned back at me in the mirror. I was a wreck of hormones. I stared at the scar and was mad at it for taking away kids I never knew I could possibly maybe one day want. It was difficult, still, though I felt much better than just a few days ago. The pain and recovery was almost a welcomed distraction though, as we waited for my appointment with the oncologist after the New Year. After they took out everything that had something attached to it, I didn't have much time to worry, though I did allow myself a significant amount of time in the middle of the night to stare at the ceiling and ponder my own mortality. Struggling with the surgery and fretting over me was what I allowed Emily to do. The future and what I was bound for, that was mine. They were biopsying my dirty insides and I pretended to be normal. I was normal.

Emily wouldn't let me hide behind humor the entire time. When I told her on the trip into the hospital for the surgery at an ungodly hour, that it was good, because now she didn't have to worry about getting me pregnant, she stopped the car and told me to stop it. She sat us on the edge of the interstate with just the sound of a stray passing pair of tires and the blinking of the hazards, and she stared at me and told me to feel it all, and to be angry and to be ready to fight because she was ready to fight and there wasn't room for belittling the present situation or the present in general. Emily told me that this was serious, and I knew that she was right. I yelled at her and told her just that. That I didn't know how to do it, that I didn't know what to feel. That I was terrified of losing the most innately womanly parts of myself before I could even fully understand what it meant. I beat at the dashboard and I kicked at the glovebox and rocked in my chair until I was sure it would rip right out. Emily yelled back at me that she hated it and she loved me and she was scared, so so scared. And she beat the steering wheel and tried to rip it out of the console. And we both lashed out at the same time until we were too weak to move and our hands and voices were red and raw and swelling. We sat in our seats in the early morning highway and our lungs heaved and tried to catch up. Staring straight ahead, we both swelled and ebbed and seethed and steeled ourselves and each other.

My friends and family and Emily needed to see me back to normal. I didn't allow myself the time to mope or worry, and I pushed myself harder than my body would let me sometimes, because they needed to see I was choosing to be alright, so they could be normal as well. They have no power to save me or help me or do anything but fret. I had all of the power, and that was unfair. So I was a good sport, or at least the best sport I could be.

"Can I help?" I asked, slowly making my way into the kitchen after dressing. Emily was already working her hands in some flour composition. She put all of her energy in this dinner because it was easier. She was nervous though, which was fair, because she was an average cook, on good days.

"No no," she smiled sweetly and dragged a flour street from her forearm to her forehead. "I got it."

"Alright," I leaned against the counter while she rolled out crust.

"I do," she returned. "I have turkey in the oven, and your mum, Katie, and Panda are bringing sides and wines." She pushed the rolling pin along the counter forcefully.

"Okay, I was just offering," I tried to calm her. "It smells really good in here," I promised.

"Thank you," she smiled slightly. I finally dusted the flour from her forehead. "Are you alright?" she stopped her movements and baking.

"I'm wonderful," I assured her, kissing her once-floured forehead and holding her neck there. I kissed and kissed and kissed all over her face. "I am wonderful," I promised again. "Relax a bit."

"I am perfectly relaxed," she argued. I could feel the tenseness of her muscles radiating from every joint. I nodded. "Now go sit. I put your pills and water on the coffee table. Take them this time," she pointed the rolling pin at my face and eyed me, daring me to argue.

"Alright, alright," I gave up, slowly backing away from her. She poked my back when I turned towards the living room and gave me a smile. "What do you want to listen to?" I asked, stopping at the radio on the bookshelf.

"Christmas music!" she answered eagerly and much too quickly. Begrudgingly I found some and left it for her before sitting down. "Thank you!" she hummed.

I settled into the couch and took my pills and opened the laptop. I'd been lucky enough to be able to do a lot of work from home. It was the only thing that kept me sane some days, amidst the violent quiet that rested in the apartment when Emily was gone. She'd been doing amazing work in the past few months, and I would make her leave, even though she fought me and didn't want to leave me alone. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I would just sleep for most of it anyway. But she went, and she went through the pictures with me sometimes at night in bed, and I fawned over her like a proud mama cat.

There wasn't much I wanted to work on now. I'd become ann assistant of sorts. I wouldn't be able to bring myself to ask people to donate for cancer research anymore, not like this, and ironically didn't think I could be taken seriously petitioning the government. Instead I looked at the pictures on Emily's website. She'd done some band portraits, and editorials for big magazines and award ceremonies. She'd done me. I had my own little tab. It wasn't labeled 'Naomi,' but it was me. It was me in the hospital. It was my scar and a progression of it healing. It was the hospital hallway and IV tubes. I got to watch myself wither and grow frail through her eyes, and it was a torture I often inflicted on myself.

"I got it," I closed the laptop eagerly when someone knocked on the door. I stood up quickly, enjoying the painkiller. "I got it," I made sure Emily wasn't following. She held her hands up in the kitchen and let me open the door.

"My baby," my mother grabbed my shoulders a second after the door opened. I wished I had let Emily open the door that time. "Oh, look at my baby." She kissed my cheeks and held me tight.

"Hi, Mum," I smiled. "Hi, Kieran."

"You shouldn't be up," she scolded me. "How are you feeling?"

"Hi, Naomi," my stepfather reluctantly greeted me while my mother continued her torment.

"Seriously, sit down, sit down," she walked with me to the couch. "How are you?"

"Mum, stop!" I finally had to make her still and to stop taking an inventory of me. "I'm fine. I'm glad you're here. But I'm fine, and please stop asking." She kept her arm around me and squeezed. "Got get the other one." I flopped onto the couch and pointed towards the kitchen where Emily was still hard at work. I watched her take the pot in her husband's hands and head into the kitchen. "Sit a spell, pops," I patted the back of the couch for the poor, lost, disheveled man.

"How are you doing, kid?" he asked, flopping down in much the same way I did. I wanted to ask him if he had his uterus pulled out too. My mum was already hugging and squeezing up Emily. I didn't even have to turn around to see them behind me. My mum loved Emily. She loved her more than she loved me, I think. She loved her because she was too good for me, and she stuck around anyway.

"You know," I shrugged. I could be honest with Kieran because we both had a pessimistic streak a mile wide, strong and stubborn. "Pretty good. I'm glad you guys could come." Emily had been planning a holiday dinner for the past three weeks, anxious to have everyone be together. It made me nervous. She was afraid there wouldn't be another. I didn't know the proper way to tell her that I wouldn't die ever.

"Oh, yeah, of course," he nodded, rubbing his hands together anxiously. "You know if you need anything..." he looked at me sideways, afraid. "I don't have to tell your mum. If you just need an ear... to talk about how shit everything is. No pressure, just shit. Everything is shit."

"How much did that hurt to say?" I laughed at his discomfort. He let out a sigh.

"So bloody much," he gave me a grin.

"Thanks," I nodded.

"Don't get all weepy, now," he nudged me.

"I will never be able to figure out how you got my mum to marry you," I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"Dumb luck," he shrugged.

Shortly after Emily brought us drinks, Katie and Effy arrived. Not five minutes later, Panda and Thomas.

Soon our living room was filled with pretty much anyone that mattered to us, and they were perched from every surface, laughing and drinking and getting acquainted or re-acquainted. Emily missed Katie quite tremendously, so seeing them together was nice, because she smiled and laughed and was a new Emily. They cooked in the kitchen and passed out more and more drinks. My mum supervised as best she could, though it was a severe case of the blind leading the blind. Panda and Kieran set the table which was a series of borrowed tables we covered in a few different table cloths so everyone could fit together in our little apartment. The rooms were filled with this lightness that came with the heat from the oven and the wine and the idea of human contact.

"I thought I'd find you out here," I gingerly made my way onto the balcony. Effy flicked her cigarette out into the street and smiled at me. "Dinner's almost ready."

"I'm that predictable?" she leaned against it. I wrapped my bare arms around myself in the winter that sat in the streets like a lazy cat, uneager to move, but instead just impose itself. A soft breeze slunk past us, making the cold a bit colder.

"I know you pretty well. I have lived with you longer than I've lived with my girlfriend," I shrugged and leaned over the railing. "I'm surprised you came at all, honestly." I could feel her eyes on me and I met them without fear. It made her waver.

"Yeah, well," she shrugged. "You're the asshole with cancer. Can't really come up with an excuse to get me out of dealing with that."

"So that's all I had to do to get you to be social?" I tried to make her laugh. It failed. She lit another cigarette. and mimicked my position. We stood there listening to both the cars passing and the laughter and yelling of people behind us. Someone must have said something funny, because I heard Katie and Thomas and my mother laughing eagerly. "You know, we're not sure if I have it. They're doing tests. They took out all the bad stuff, or at least they hope," I explained. She handed me the cigarette and I paused to inhale. I watched her stare at the cars as lights seemed to flicker and dance in her eyes. Effy always looked so lost in thought it looked painful. I wondered what kind of suffering that was. "Could be nothing."

"You scared?" she asked, taking it back again. She seemed to grow tense and her fingers shook.

"Yeah," I admitted for only the second time. We were quiet again. I traced the metal of the railing. I watched the streetlight change at the corner down the block. I watched people walking below us. Effy took her time exhaling. I watched the smoke mix with her breath steaming in the cold.

"You can't die," she decided, throwing the butt as she had the other. I watched the glowing red end do cartwheels through the air before its violent demise on the wet street below. It was such a violent burst of embers before it disappeared. "You can't do that to me. I'm here." I watched her speak. I watched her take yet again another cigarette from the pack in her pocket. She slid it between her lips so gracefully it made me think she was built for just that movement. It took her a few cranks of the lighter to get it to light. I sighed and inhaled the cold air so that it hurt my lungs. "I'm here," she said again, nodding slightly to herself.

"Alright," I agreed. "I won't." She smirked when she inhaled. I watched the hair get in her eyes and she shook it away. The night was frosty and the moon was no where to be found between buildings. But we both stood there, silent as the stars, unwavering and unaccustomed to such banalities of existence. She handed me the last bit of cigarette. I took it greedily, letting it burn at my fingers.

"I love you," she sighed, still not looking at me. She sounded almost relieved and angry at the revelation.

"I love you, too," I affirmed, throwing the butt into the street again. It exploded like a firecracker. Neither of us moved despite the growing chills in my bones. "You're alright, yeah?" I ventured.

"I am," she decided. "You'd know if I wasn't." That felt like a promise, like a duty.

"Dinner's ready, ladies," Thomas stuck his head out the door and informed us and disappeared. Effy smiled at me weakly and nodded.

"Hey, I promise I'm okay," I told her, stopping her before we went inside. She nodded and put her arms around me, hugging me tightly, choking me, even. It took a second for my arms to complete the hug. "Come on, let's go eat. Santa might have even left a present for you in a stocking or something." I made her laugh and dragged her back inside.

The table was trimmed and there was scarcely an inch of tablecloth visible between plates and bowls and platters of food. I kissed the top of Emily's head when I walked past her seat, gripping her shoulders and hiding my smile in her hair. Everyone else was seated or scooting around to find a spot.

"This looks amazing, love," I leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

"Come on then," she motioned to the seat beside her. "Fill up your tummy." I knew she smelled smoke on me and I knew that it bothered her, but she kissed my cheek when I sat by her and we all started passing the platters around like a true family.

Panda told us stories that made us all look at each other in disbelief before we laughed. Everyone complimented each other's dishes. My mother enjoyed too many glasses of wine. Katie embarrassed her sister. And for moments, I would look around and feel overwhelmed by how happy I could be.

Compliments went to Emily for planning the evening as plates emptied and everyone sat back, full and sated. I put my arm around the back of her chair and beamed.

"This has been a lovely evening," my mother began. "And I am so happy to see all of the love and goodness that surrounds my daughter." The table was quiet in a self-discovering kind of way. "I know it's the elephant in the room, but as a mother, I just want to tell you all, thank you, and I am humbled. This is all you can hope for when you hold that little baby on that first day. You hope they grow up to be good people, surrounded by good people, doing good things."

"Mum," I tried to scold her. "Guys, this is just a holiday dinner. We won't know anything until the New Year, so please, please don't worry or fret."

"I'm just saying," Mum defended. "This has been nice, and I am relieved."

"You guys, I'm not dying yet," I tried to laugh it off. "We have to wait and see. In which case there will be another dinner... Probably with a piñata."

Everyone grew contemplative and quiet for a moment despite my best efforts. I hadn't wanted to address this. I wanted to pretend, and I was so close to finishing the night without being reminded about my possible impending demise. But I was glad my mother had some sort of peace with it all. I was amazed to see the genuine concern on my friends' faces when confronted with the actualities of my situation. _That_ was humbling.

"We're in it with you," Panda held up her glass slowly though forcefully. "Whatever's next, Naomi."

"No matter what," Thomas held up his glass. I gave them both smiles.

"I'm here," Effy said with a slight smile as she lifted hers. "For whatever's next."

"You're family," Katie raised hers. "Whatever's next, you're stuck with me."

"Everything's shit," Kieran followed. "But it can be good shit." There were small chuckles. He blushed bright.

"You've always been stubborn," my mother finished with her glass.

Emily's eyes were glassy and staring into the faces of each of our friends and family. I heard her clear her throat gently.

"You're the love of my life," she raised he glass, giving me a big, strong, and utterly wondrous smile. "I'm in. No matter what comes next."

It wasn't until that moment that I realized how fragile it all was. It wasn't until that moment that I acknowledged my deepest gut feeling; that this was not nothing, as I kept professing, that deep down I knew that something bad was on the horizon, and it was big, and it would test my very bones.

"No matter what comes next," I held up my glass. "Here's to fighting with the most badass army behind me."

Glasses were clinked and the drinks sat in our mouths heavy like an anvil. I kissed Emily's cheek.

"Okay, enough of this. You guys are such downers," I held up my hands. "Emily has made us pie, and I am kind of curious to see how this came out."

"Alright, harsh," my girlfriend laughed.

"Well... I've tasted your baking," Katie interjected. "And it's... an experience."

Katie took it upon herself to cheer everyone up. It wasn't hard with Panda there. Maybe their all-for-one professions made them all closer as well. Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. I had blood around me now. The rest of the evening I felt like I was seeing them in a new way, like how Emily must have felt when she used her camera to really see things. And we ate the pie, which was delicious, and drank the rest of the wine, and we cleaned and sat around and talked until it was much too late.

And after I finally closed the door on the last guest and turned around to find Emily in our empty apartment, I smiled at her weary face. I stood there for a moment, watching her drink a glass of water in the kitchen.

"Come on, then," she smiled, holding her hand out to me. "Let's go to bed."

"Yes ma'am," I followed eagerly on tired and weary limbs.

We stripped and crawled into bed in the dark, both sufficiently wine drunk and food coma'd. Slowly, Emily found her space on my shoulder and her arm went around me.

"Thank you," I kissed the top of her head. She yawned and kissed my chest. "Your pies were delicious."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not," I swore.

"Yeah yeah," she dismissed me, already falling asleep after the long day. "Don't get used to it."

"Thank you for everything else, too," I whispered.

"Yeah yeah," she nuzzled into my side harder.


	6. Monday, February 12

**Monday, February 12**

_Take me home, tend me.  
Baby, lay me down easy,  
for I have grown weary on my own._

"Are you sure you don't want me to go?" I asked Naomi again while she nibbled at her toast. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Because I can. I don't care much about work."

"Ems, stop," she interrupted my diatribe. "I will be fine. Cooper asked you a favor, and it's a pretty fantastic favor. Effy is going to stop by, and I have all my new cancer friends to catch up with."

"I can be there though," I offered. Naomi's first session had been a month ago, and I sat there for eight hours, reading and taking pictures and getting to know the nurses and asking a relentless set of questions to everyone there. I had to be there, for myself, to see it all, to understand it all. We sat in the oncologist's office and he told her how aggressive the cancer had been, and that the surgery didn't get rid of everything, but it was still treatable and to be optimistic. I didn't want to believe that she could beat it and we could walk away from this situation. So I went there and I watched the chemo process and it scared me, so I couldn't imagine what it did to her.

"I told you to tell Cooper yes, and I meant it," she reminded me. "I'm going to go shower. You go pack up your stuff."

"Okay," I agreed. She kissed the side of my head and hugged me when she put her dish in the sink.

"Don't worry," she insisted. I smiled and watched her walk into the bedroom.

I couldn't help but worry. We were going for round two, and I nearly worried myself sick the first time. At night she woke up feverish and unable to sleep, sometimes with shooting pains. During the day she would become exhausted out of no where and have to nap. She was nauseous all of the time, it felt like. She fought me to take painkillers. And there was nothing I could do. The helplessness that constricted my muscles made me worry. It made me realize how ineffectual I was. And realizing that you can't fight the battle of someone you love is paralyzing. And I felt all of this with a twinge of guilt and a steadfast demeanor because anything I drowned myself in, she was beating me, tenfold. I couldn't compare suffering.

Naomi did her best to retain normalcy though and to keep everyone from losing their minds with worry. She insisted that she wasn't dying, she just had cancer. She still cooked for me a few nights. She still liked to argue with her mum who insisted on visiting nearly every weekend. We watched movies and she made me work and we argued about chores. I was afraid of becoming complacent.

I washed the dishes from the morning and continued to debate what I should do. I felt guilty, not going with Naomi, but she genuinely didn't want me to miss this opportunity. I wasn't worried about missing it though. Not if it made her more comfortable. These wheels continued to grind against each other, around and around and around in my head. There was a layer of self doubt in that I didn't think I was ready to take pictures for _Vanity Fair_, let alone the new-comers, UK edition. But Cooper said I was, and it paid better than freelancing and for the magazine I usually worked for, and we needed money with Naomi on leave.

It was all a pile of shit, to quote Kieran. I cleaned up the kitchen and only found solace in the fact that it all was shit. Something about it all being shit was nice. It meant that no matter what, it was going to be shit, no matter what I did, it would stay shit, and in the end it was shit. But God, there was some goodness in it still. Like kissing Naomi in the morning. That was a good thing that I was grateful for every minute.

"Emily?" I heard Naomi call me from the bathroom. I threw my rag on the counter, still unsure. Still angry that I let myself be allowed to go to do this amazing shoot while Naomi would spend eight hours being prodded and pumped with toxic sludge.

"Yes, my love? You bellowed?" I found her staring into the mirror with the brush in her hand. A long clump of hair hung from it. "Oh, babe, it's okay," I tried to soothe her. She wasn't crying or making any sort of face other than disbelief. "Hey, it's alright," I moved to take the brush from her. I disentangled the hair and threw it in the bin. "We knew this would happen," I reminded her. It was a surprise to me, too, though. We heard this would happen, but to see it was another thing entirely. It was the physicality of her illness. I couldn't see the pain of her. I could only imagine her symptoms. But now, I saw.

Naomi still didn't move. Instead she just stood there, staring at herself in the mirror, almost trying to see who was looking back at her. The disconnect was tangible.

"Take it all off," she said a moment later, still staring herself down. "Get the clippers," she finally turned to me.

"Naoms, come on," I tried gently. "That's a long way off, and you have only your second treatment out of five today. It's a long road. Don't you want to wait-?"

"No," she cut me off. "Why delay the inevitable? I don't want to look like a sickly patient. I am going to own this and wear it and be it and beat it. I'm not going to wither." I saw a flash in her eyes that I hadn't seen in weeks. Pale blue was cold and violent, decided and stern. We stared at each other, deadlocked and afraid. "Please?" she asked, swallowing.

"Really? Do you really want this?" I asked, taking a step towards her. I touched her cheek and held her shirt in my hand, keeping her tight and locked and mine. I pulled on her hair a bit. I played with it at the nape of her neck. She smiled and nodded.

"I'm sure," she told me. I nodded.

"Sit," I told her. "I'll be back in a minute."

I went to our neighbor and asked if he had a set of shavers. Luckily he shared.

I took a moment and stood outside of our apartment door. I stared at it and felt the weight of the clippers in my hand. Naomi didn't ask for anything. It was like a rule she had. She never asked for huge favors that someone couldn't do or that came at a cost. But this felt heavy. This felt violent. But she'd been such a sport, never losing hope, never giving up, always making everyone around her laugh. I was afraid in doing this I would ruin her in stead of empower her. It weighted heavy on my soul. It made me stand in the hall, staring at our door, unable to move for a few moments of doubt and fear.

"Alright, so I've never done this," I walked into the bathroom, decidedly and eagerly. I could be the strong one sometimes.

"What's the worst that could happen?" she smiled up at me, mischievous like I always knew her to be. I plugged them in and put a towel around her shoulders.

"You know that I love you," I said it, not looking for affirmation. It was a statement and I meant it. Naomi nodded.

"Just don't take off an ear, okay?" She took a seat on the edge of the tub.

The buzz of the machine scared me at first so much that I had to turn it off. I swallowed and looked at it in my hand.

"It's okay," Naomi egged me onwards. She steadied my hand and pulled me down so that she could kiss me. "It's okay, love," she promised.

I nodded and turned it on again. The first swipe was terrifying, but I did it, and threw the hair onto the floor of the tub. I wanted to say something reassuring, but nothing was coming out of my mouth. I could only think about was her hair when it had sand in it at the coast. The sun was shining so much that her skin roasted and I grew tan. And at night, when I kissed her on the beach, I felt sand and sand and sand clumped in her hair. For weeks I convinced myself that the ocean lingered, that the sand from the beach was waiting for me to feel at her scalp.

Naomi let me tilt her head as I continued my buzzing. Gently, I angled her head and made straight lines as best I could. Her eyes were closed, but it I could feel this sense of wonder and fear in her smile and in her neck.

As lovingly as I could, I dusted and cleaned up my edges. I ran my hands along the fuzzy bits, tossing aside strands.

The room felt too quiet when I turned off the shears finally. We both stayed still. I stared at what I had done.

"Can I take a picture?" I asked. Naomi was staring at her lap. She nodded and I hurried to grab my camera. "Are you ready, love?" I asked, standing behind her. She shook her head and sighed. I kissed the back of her head. I squeezed her shoulders. "It's okay. It's okay." I felt her take a deep breath, expanding her shoulders and straightening her spine.

Her eyes were clear and ready when she lifted her head. She met herself in the mirror, slowly standing and leaning towards the mirror. I watched her in awe for a moment before I took a picture, and then another. I took a picture of her turning her head and finally, of a shaking hand running along her skull for the first time. It was the most tremendous and wondrous moment of my life.

I leaned my chin on her shoulder and wrapped her up. I kissed the back of her neck while she touched and moved her head. Time marched on and I'm not sure, but I'm guessing Naomi looked at herself from every angle. I just hung on for dear life.

"Not bad, Fitch," she said, running her hands along my arms. Finally, she raised her arm and hugged my shoulders. She kissed my head, digging her nose in the crown of me.

We stood like that and I tried to be strong. Even now I felt like she was holding me up completely.

"Smile, love," I picked up my camera again and took a picture of us, just as we were. I think it would be my favorite picture.

I kissed her chest and allowed myself to me smothered.

We did not say anything else. I returned the clippers and she cleaned up the hair and we continued on with our routine. And when she put on her coat, I pulled on an old beanie over her ears. She smiled and remained quiet.

"Listen, I can still cancel," I reminded her as we shared a taxi to the clinic. Naomi held my hand and shook her head. "I can. I don't even feel like working," I promised.

"You're going to do great," she kissed my cheek. "I will be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I am going to punch you in the nose if you ask me again," she glared at me.

"Alright, easy," I relented.

"You'll do great today," she leaned over and kissed my lips, so sweetly it made me forget it all. "I love you."

"You too," I nodded, more for myself. "I love you."

A second later, the bright orange beanie was seen entering the clinic without a care that I could see. I waited a moment until the driver asked me for the address. Finally I gave it to him and tried not to think about the events of the morning. I rested my head against the window and worried about Naomi and her state. She seemed alright, but she was strong until she wasn't.

I fought off the rest of the guilt in the ride. She was right. She didn't need me to be there. But I wanted to be there. I told her I would be with her every step of the way. I was there in the middle of the night when she shook. I was there when she wouldn't let me help her. I was there when she snapped at me. I was there when she asked me to lay down with her.

"Thank you," I handed the driver money. I lugged my bags and headed towards the shoot. It was almost like a switch, like I was able to get nervous about work now instead of Naomi. My nerves appeared the moment before I opened the door of the warehouse the shoot was to be held in. There were mad rushes of people, wardrobe, make-up flying, and I was led to the control table. I was very aware of how foreign it all was. I'd never orchestrated one of these. I'd only ever been the one running around.

"You're Emily Fitch?" a girl found me setting up my equipment.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I thought I would just-"

"We're almost ready to start," she informed me. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"Just a bottle of water?" I asked, watching her write things down and look about like a deer. I realized I'd been that girl just over a year ago for Cooper. She disappeared and for a moment I allowed myself to worry about Naomi. The swirling madness was loud and silencing at the same time. I felt more like a fraud for being here. She was getting a needle filled with poison shoved into her veins, and Effy was sitting with her. I should have been. I wanted to be, but when she told me to come it was too kind. I didn't want to burden her with the idea I might regret being with her.

I took a walk around the set and surveyed the pieces. Cooper had a corner for the men, tasteful and warm, like the den of a prohibition basement, card table and cigars, whiskey glasses. The girls had a long fainting sofa and huge window piece. I flipped through the ones Cooper had done yesterday of the men and wondered how I could match what he'd done. But maybe that was it.

When I returned to the camera station, a water bottle had appeared. The girl was nowhere in sight for me to thank. The day passed quickly once I met the women. It was difficult trying to act non-starstuck, but I tried. I put them in their fancy gowns in the same spots as the men did yesterday. I gave them glasses of whiskey and cigars and cards and chips, and let them fill the scene. For lunch I made them eat at the table, ordering whatever the knew they shouldn't have. I wanted to recreate the boys club. I wanted them to be powerful for me.

The entire day, I lost myself and I fit in the shoes that Cooper had set out for me. Eventually they got into it, seeing the pictures of the men I wanted them to recreate and getting into it. I was professional and excited about work. Though Naomi nagged in the back of my head, I realized I wasn't missing much. Effy and her needed time to be friends, so it was good. The actresses left one at a time as I finished the individual shoots. They were courteous and excited about what they'd done. Some even taking my information and wanting to see if I would be free again. It was nice. They were beginning and I was beginning and I think we were able to see that in each other.

"Alright, that's it," I dropped my camera in my hands. "We're done."

"Yeah?" the actress asked, relaxing finally.

"It's a wrap!" I yelled to hear applause.

"Can I see the stills?" Sarah asked, kicking off the heels.

"Um, yeah, sure," I looked at my watch and knew that Naomi still had an hour of chemo left. "Go get out of that expensive gown first."

"Right," she nodded with a smile and disappeared.

The crew was quick, coming to tear everything down. Cooper would have his equipment sent back to him. I was grateful he left it for me. I heard the clasping of make-up bags and cases, the zipping of garment bags, and the general hum of people excited to have a day done. I sat at the computer and started to flip through the pictures from the beginning with the group pictures. The representative from the magazine sat with me and was very excited at some of them. I felt like I'd made a step, taken an important leap in my career, just in that moment. I couldn't wait to tell Naomi. I couldn't wait to tell her about my day and I was excited and utterly blown away by her selflessness.

"So, how do they look?" Sarah appeared. I'd fan-girled over her the most. She had been in my favorite movie of the year, and she was just so talented it hurt. To meet her and see that she was nice and thoughtful and intelligent was too much.

"Not too bad," I decided, putting the laptop on the desk. "I just sent some of them with Marge, so they'll make the final cut on which ones they want to use."

"Awesome," she sat down beside me with a smile. "It feels so nice to be out of those heels and that dress."

"I bet," I agreed. "Why don't you flip through, pick some, and I'll update my site with the outtakes? I have to pack up my cameras."

"Alright, yeah," she agreed.

While I worked she asked me questions. The crowd dwindled and her driver sat lazily in the corner drinking coffee and picking at leftover food trays. I confessed that I'd loved her movie. She'd confessed that she'd never heard of me and was disappointed she didn't get to work with Cooper, but after it all, she was happy with the experience. She saw it as I did, that it was nice to see the bright stars of the future working together now. I told her that I was no where close to being bright. During the group she'd been outgoing, and when surrounded by people, she was always smiling and constantly performing. Now, Sarah seemed very calm and normal, which shouldn't have surprised me, but it did to an extent. I discovered she was from Cardiff, and we talked about that because that was where my grandparents had lived.

"Okay, this one," she turned the screen around as I zipped my bag, finally succeeding in putting all of my supplies away. "I want this one."

"I think that one I sent with Marge," I confessed. "Good eye."

"Well shit," she shrugged, taking the computer back. I sat down again beside her after piling my bags.

"This was fun," she said, pointing to the ones of the girls eating at the table, huge burgers dripping onto the napkins tucked into their gowns. "I really like it."

"I'm glad we tried it," I nodded. I'd never watched someone I didn't know look through my pictures. It was new and absolutely terrifying.

"You know, I've know her for four years," she said, pointing to one of the pictures of another actress. "And I've never seen her look like this. It's quite nice." I tried not to beam at the compliment.

When she pushed the final slide of the shoot I'd expected her to stop, but instead, Naomi and I popped onto the screen. She did nothing to stop or to look away. Instead I gulped and watched it flash across the screen, but on her face. Thoughtfully she stared at the pictures, moving slower than she had with the ones of the shoot today.

"That's your girlfriend?" she asked quietly, clicking the mouse again and pausing.

In the picture Naomi looked so sad it hurt. I hadn't seen that on her face when I was with her earlier. She'd been brave and she'd been decisive. In the photo though, there was the look of mourning I hadn't felt. I could see the hair on the towel on her shoulder. I could feel the vibrations of the shaver in my hand still. My face was hidden behind the camera.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Those were taken this morning." She clicked next again.

Naomi's head was turned and she was smiling, surveying the new skin present. Her hand was stuck to the back of her head, rubbing upwards. Her face was amusement and almost amazement. The tinge of melancholy anchored it though. I swallowed.

"She's pretty," Sarah sighed, taking her hand away from the laptop.

"Yeah," I smiled and agreed.

"How is she?"

"Okay," I realized. "She's actually nearly done with her second round of chemo now," I said checking my watch. "This morning she decided she wasn't going to wait for her hair to fall out. I had to..." I stopped and the words grew fuzzy and thick in my mouth. That surprised me slightly. "She's a fighter. She's something."

"She's brave," the actress decided. "You're kind of amazing too."

"It's all her," I promised.

"You still came and did this, even with her chemo?" she asked. "I'm sorry, I'm being nosey."

"No, it's no problem. I've been putting up pictures of this experience on my website. It helps me see her. She's brave and sometimes I can't wrap my head around it. So I guess I'm open for questioning."

"That's a good way to cope," she decided.

"That and coming to work," I realized. "Naomi, the girlfriend, she made me come today. She's stubborn. She knew that I needed a break."

"Just fuck," Sarah sighed. My phone leaped to life on the table and I grabbed it, thankful to be away from the pictures I hadn't had time to process yet. "I can't imagine it. How do you do it, every day?"

"Excuse me a moment?" I asked, standing.

"No, yeah," she nodded, waving me off. I took a few steps away and answered my sister.

"Yeah, Katie, what's up?"

"Hey, so don't rush home, I'm taking Naomi back to your place now," she said.

"What?" I yelped. "Effy was supposed to be there until I got done."

"She never showed," Katie whispered. I knew she was outside waiting for Naomi to be unhooked. "I came by a few hours ago to see how everything was, and she was here alone, talking to the other patients."

"Fuck," I ran my hand over my face. "Okay, well I will meet you at home. How is she? How did it go? Doe she hate me for not being there?"

"Ems, calm down," Katie chuckled a bit at my freak out. "She's fine. It went good. She's not mad. She was bragging about you to the other patients. Don't worry. I'm taking her home in the next few minutes."

"Alright," I nodded. "Thanks, Katie. It means a lot."

"Yeah yeah," she tossed away my appreciation as if it wasn't required. "Don't mention it."

"I'll see you soon."

"Don't rush if you're not done."

"I've just packed up," I promised. "Drive safe."

"Okay, see you."

I shoved the phone in my pocket and stood, too distracted by what I was supposed to do.

"I'm sorry," I picked up my coat and slung it on. "I have to go."

"Oh yeah, no problem," Sarah stood. I shoved my laptop in the bag and slung it over my shoulder. "Thanks for letting me look."

"Of course," I nodded, moving around the table to pick up my equipment. "You have my info if you have any questions about the pictures. Good luck, with everything. You're insanely talented."

"You too," she offered quickly. "You really are. And I hope everything gets better for your girlfriend."

"Thanks," I smiled and scurried out the side door.

Ten minutes later I was in the taxi and heading home. My mind was spinning trying to connect the dots. I knew that Naomi was alright. But I knew that Katie wasn't her first pick in the friend department. I was amazed my sister made the effort. But she had been doing a lot of things like that lately. It was Effy that appalled me. The high of the shoot wore away quickly as we made our way through the city. I suddenly felt as if I'd made the wrong choice, as if I'd let Naomi down, even though she'd never admit it.

I told the taxi to stop at Effy's because I was in a rage. From the street I watched shadows move around her the huge windows of her apartment and it fueled me. I paid the driver and stewed in the elevator on the way up to her door. It was a big, black, metal thing, imposing and impenetrable. An ample metaphor for my friend.

My fist made a loud thumping and banging on the metal. I felt it rock on its squeaky hinges. She didn't come to open it.

"Effy!" I yelled, my voice bouncing off of the brick of the hallway. I pounded my fist on the door. "Effy!" I waited. "I know you're in there!" I yelled again, pounding and pounding and pounding with both of my fists. My anger at both her and myself grew. My anger at the situation boiled my insides. Effy took away the goodness of my experience today. She took away the trust I had in the community around Naomi. She betrayed. I was still angry about this morning and the scene in the bathroom that I was forced to take part in, not because of Naomi, but because it had to happen at all.

Only when my arms felt tired did I stop and take a step back, lungs filling and emptying at my aggression. I heard only the smallest noise from the flat and that set me off again. I jumped at the door with all of my might. My whole hand hurt from slapping and punching and utterly beating the imposing wall.

"Come out here you coward!" I screamed. "You're a fucking coward!" My words were muffled with the resounding pounding of my fists. "You're not special, you're not mysterious, you're just a fucking coward." My throat tightened and rejected my noise, though I kept trying to scream. "She counted on you! She counted on you! I counted on you."

Naomi counted on me too. My fist fell flat against the door and I leaned into the door so that it held me up, my body giving up on my anger, on my fear, on my sadness. I rubbed my eyes on my forearm and couldn't figure out when I started crying. Feebly my hand smacked against the door in slow, steady beats.

"She needed you," I sobbed. "She needed you."

My forehead bounced on the door as I braced my hands on it, using it as legs, using it as crutch.

"You left her alone," I stuttered. "You're a worthless coward." I started to pound on the door again. "I know you're in there, you bitch!" I clawed, resilient in my anger. There was a beast in me, feeding off of my hopeless and helplessness. I could feel him in my heckles. I could feel him in my spine. I could feel him in my lungs. "Why couldn't it have been you!" I threw my entire body again. Both of my fists were throbbing and aching and burning. I didn't stop. I feverishly yelled and kicked and beat and cried. "Why couldn't it have been you!" I yelled again. "Why couldn't it have been me!"

I slumped against the door once more, my body spent, my lungs trembling violently, my arms and shoulders aching and exhausted as my very soul. My body flopped on the ground and I just sat there- no longer crying, no longer thinking. I just sat there, spent and aching and scared. I sat for longer than I would like to admit before I came to and I felt the beast sleep, finally, wrapped in hate and regret, snuggly in my chest.

"Do better," I said, standing and facing the peephole again. "Do better!" I said again so she didn't miss it.

I flagged a taxi on the corner, allowing myself one more look at her loft. The unmistakable thin form of our once fearless leader was outlined in darkness. I stared at her for a moment and gave the driver my address.

Outside of our flat, I stared at the door as well. I surveyed my hands and tried not to realize how much they ached. I adjusted my bag and checked my fear, leaving it in the hallway, telling the beast to lurk in the lifts.

"Well, look at this," I smiled, seeing the picture before me as I walked in and put my bag by the door. "You do know that I'm Emily, right? I thought you figured out this twin thing already."

"Ha ha," Katie said flatly, adjusting as Naomi sat up a bit on the couch. "Shut up, we're getting to the good parts."

"Yeah, the crocs going to get eaten by a python," Naomi insisted, smiling when she saw me. I hung my coat on the rack and made my way towards her, grabbing her head and kissing her firmly and with all I had left after my catharsis all over Effy's door. It wasn't much, but it was all that I had. I ran my hand along her buzzed head, taking off the new beanie she'd found somewhere, feeling the prickles and softness that covered her skull. "Hi, love," she whispered. I couldn't stop my hands from moving all over her head.

"Hi, beautiful," I kissed her again, forgetting Katie and the gagging noises she made from the other end of the couch. "How are you?" I said between kissing her forehead and cheeks and almost baldness.

"Good," she promised, pulling her cap back on. "How was work?"

"Really, really good," I conceded. I wanted to make her proud so badly. I wanted to make it worth it. I also wanted to tell her that I wish I hadn't gone and that I wish she would have let me say no to Cooper.

"Want to show me?" she asked eagerly. I could see the tired in her eyes.

"Hey, shut up, this is the good stuff," Katie reminded us.

"Tomorrow," I decided, taking the middle seat on the couch and slipping under the blanket they were sharing.

While we watched Katie and Naomi joked. I let my head rest on my girlfriend's shoulder and her hands hold my own. They were throbbing and on fire, but I let her anyway because that was what they needed. Katie stayed for a while, and I was grateful, so it didn't feel as if I had her babysitting. She even was kind and nice to Naomi in the ways she could. I told them bits and pieces about meeting the celebrities that I saw today. More importantly I told her that Marge, the supervisor from the magazine had liked my work and was excited to work with me again.

"Alright, I'm heading home," Katie decided well after the program ended.

"Thanks, Katie," I said, hugging her at the door. Naomi nodded and waved.

"Yeah, yeah," she shrugged. "It was kind of fun. That one guy was hot. And we got to drink wine and eat popsicles."

"She means Noah," Naomi explained. "There might be some matchmaking in oncology."

"Okay, I can't leave you anywhere," I laughed, pushing Katie out the door. "You're trying to pull in a clinic." Katie shrugged.

"I'll see you for lunch tomorrow," she reminded me. "See ya, Naomi."

"Bye, Katie," we said in unison.

With the door locked and the television shut off and Naomi with her pills, we made our way to the bedroom. I crawled into bed and threw her hat on the floor. When she rested beside me, I rubbed my cheek along her head and kissed around her ears.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I know," she smiled.

"Thank you, for making me go to work today."

"Well, I just want you to be able to keep me in the life I've become accustomed to. All this frivolity and luxury can spoil a girl."

"There it is," I laughed, settling in beside her. "You're just after me for my money."

"And I love you," she whispered.

"Yeah yeah," I chuckled. I rubbed her ribs and buried my nose in her shoulder. "I'm sorry Effy bailed." Naomi shrugged.

"I had fun with Katie."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," I whispered.

"Emily, eight hours with me in a clinic or eight hours working with these amazing people for a magazine that could make your career. There's no choice. I was fine. You don't have to worry so much."

"I'm going to worry too much," I promised.

"I'm not mad or worried or upset you weren't there," she reminded me. "You gave me a haircut, and that means more than sitting there, bored, for eight hours."

"I did do a good job, huh?" I smiled in the dark, rubbing her fuzz again.

"You have a new fall back career," she laughed.

"I can do better," I repeated for myself. I let the exhaustion of the day wash over me and consume me, and in that I got lost for a moment.


	7. Thursday, June 30

**Thursday, June 30**

_Can I stay here with you 'til the day breaks?  
__How happy it would make me to see your face when I wake._

"Did you take them all?" Emily came into the kitchen toweling her hair.

"Yes, dear," I said, sing-song and all. When I peeked over the newspaper she was not amused. "I did, baby," I assured her.

"Don't patronize me," she gave me another stern glance before I retreated behind the wall of newsprint. "You didn't yesterday, and you were nauseous all night. You need your vitamins. You can't get sick."

"I forgot," I insisted. "But I didn't today. Don't worry." I wanted to never have to say that phrase again, but it'd become a mantra for me and for her. I couldn't not tell her that. I had to assure her, and I actually let myself believe that sometimes she didn't worry, or maybe she just got a little more ready to believe that things were alright. But I said it because she needed to hear it, and because I wanted to believe that she shouldn't worry. I was alive and I was doing well. I was nearly done with my chemo, and in just a few months, I was waiting to hear the word remission linked with my name.

"Good girl," she smiled widely as she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat beside me while I flipped through the paper. "Thank you." Emily scooted her stool closer and kissed my cheek while I focused on the words in the paper.

"Yeah yeah," I pushed my plate towards her and gave her my other piece of toast. Emily ate while I flipped.

For a moment I didn't really read the words. I just felt her beside me, focusing on the bite at hand and her coffee. I could smell her wet hair, fruity and sweet, lingering in my nostrils. It felt like any morning would for any couple. It felt like I didn't have cancer or no hair or had chemo in a few days. I ran my hand along my neck absently, feeling the ghost of my missing hair. Truth be told, I liked when Emily kissed my skin and rubbed my head. It made me feel full. Full of what? That I wasn't sure of. But I felt composed and not lacking. It constructed me. It was playful and it was a way for her to adapt to my new identity.

"Anything good?" Emily leaned on my shoulder as she finished. Coffee smell clouded her distinctness.

"Oh you know, the norm," I shrugged, flipping back to another section. "War, violence, politics, and... a preview of my girlfriend's exhibition opening," I slapped the paper in front of her and pointed.

"No way," she searched the picture in the middle of the page of her picture for the campaign she'd been working on. "Holy fuck," she was smiling. "Look at that."

"I can't believe John thought of this before I did," I said as I watched her scrutinize the page, leaning over it, analyzing, brimming with excitement.

"You would have never been okay with it if you thought of it yourself," she reminded me. Her hand was on my knee, rubbing soothingly. "You would have fought us harder with your modesty or pride or stubbornness or whatever."

She was right about that. I fought her because it felt like pandering or prostitution. But it didn't just affect me. She took a lot of pictures of people and families and made an insightful and brilliant campaign with John, my colleague. But I was about two-thirds of the exhibition, the story she was telling, and it made me nervous. I was proud of the work Emily did though. I was so proud and amazed and excited about it. The only thing that really stuck with me was a sense of pride. Selfish pride. I didn't want to be seen as weak or even brave. I was just alive. That's all I wanted. I was afraid of playing the cancer card. But I think her pictures weren't about that. They were about life, which I understood and I liked.

"_Mixing candid personal portraits with intricate focal scenes, Emily Fitch is out to tell a story of pain and finding the innate beauty smuggled in suffering_," Emily read. "_This is h__er first show in her native UK, she has done shows in New York and Boston to excellent reviews. But it seems she's saved the best for her homecoming._ How about that?" she asked, looking at me happily.

"Keep going," I urged. "I think they nail it."

_"__Fitch's raw portraits of families and even her own experiences watching a loved one battle cancer transcend the illness. It is not about tumors and blood and cancer. Instead, it is about love, and the many kinds that show up in the tiny moments of life_. _There is an undeniable style in the pieces that seems new and uninhibited. Often the photographer is seen in the works, in mirrors, with hands out, projecting herself into the images to remind us that she is part of it, so it does not feel as voyeuristic as it should. It is intimate and personal and Fitch wants you to know that._ _It is an exhibit that changes the way you will look at the people around you and your own place within their lives. In conjunction with the World Cancer Research Fund, the experiences of other families and a new campaign have been unveiled to coincide with the exhibit. Personally, I cannot wait to pay for my ticket and see it again. Don't miss the show, opening tonight with the Gala, and tomorrow for the public. Half of all ticket sales are a direct donation to the Fund. So don't miss the chance to do something good this weekend. The exhibit will run until August 21._"

"I think you might have a hit on your hands," I assured her. Still she stared at the paper, rereading and rereading and not believing that it was happening to her.

"Well that's just terrifying," she laughed.

"I'm excited," I promised.

"I can't believe this is happening..." She pushed the paper away and shook her head. "Should we cancel? We can't do this. You have chemo in a few days. It feels inappropriate. We can wait. I don't have to. I mean, I can cancel. I should cancel." Her lips were moving quicker than her gums.

"Emily," I tried to make her stop.

"No, I mean it," she rattled, nerves erupting. "Am I being selfish? I'm so sorry for being selfish."

"Emily, stop," I finally grabbed her shoulders. "We've talked about it. I love your work. I think it's amazing. And other people are counting on you. Believe it or not, I kind of have been training for this whole dating a photographer thing for a while now."

When John had approached her about his idea for a national campaign, she initially turned it down without asking me. It wasn't until he came to me and told me about it that I made her reconsider. I loved her because she hesitated for the same reasons I did. But this was part of our story, and her work was going well, and this was a project that I could see was close to her heart. Now her posters were going to be at bus stops and newspapers and magazines. It was huge for her, and the exhibit was the artistic and personal side of the commercial pursuit. She got the best of it. I got a reason to not hate my insides for betraying me and scaring her.

"I'm in the newspaper," she stared at me. "The national newspaper."

"And the local one," I told her with a smile.

"Right," she nodded. I could see how overwhelmed she was.

"You've worked hard on this, and you are doing something wonderful," I insisted. "Now stop worrying and just enjoy it. Today is your day. This is what you've worked so hard for, and this is your life."

"Alright," she agreed, sighing. I saw her shoulders fall a bit. I watched her take a deep breath, mimicking me.

"I am going to go to work now, are you going to be alright?" I held her cheeks, mushing them together. She nodded. "Really?" She nodded again.

"Just a momentary freak out," she assured me. "Are you sure you're-"

"Yes, I'm fine and it's just for a few hours," I interrupted, sick of hearing the debate. "I will head in for a bit, do a few things, and nap before meeting you at the Gala."

"I can-"

"Nope," I cut her off again. "You have a bunch of meetings today, and I'm sick of sitting around the apartment."

"What if-"

"Shh," I covered her mouth with my hand. "Let me be normal today. And you go be normal today. And we'll be normal tonight and pretend everything is alright before I have to go into another appointment." I watched her eyes watching me. "I feel okay today. Let me have one day." She mumbled behind my hand until I took it away.

"And if you don't feel good in a few hours?"

"I'll only be gone a few hours."

"Alright," she relented. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Of course," I kissed her before I stood up. "I will meet you there at eight, okay?"

"Alright," she agreed again. I could see the reluctance in her. That is a kind of love, sometimes.

"I'll be the one in the black dress and adorable beanie," I reminded her as gathered my bag to head into work.

"I'll keep an eye out," she promised, following me like a mother sending a child off to school.

I'd taken more and more trips out on my own. I'd started to ask Emily to go out when I felt up to it, hoping to break her of the habit of asking if I was alright nine thousand times per block.

"Do you remember the last gallery opening we went to?" I asked, pausing as I was about to open the door. When I looked at Emily she was running her hand through her damp hair and smiling. She nodded. "Yeah, we should probably drink a lot and have sex then, to keep the tradition alive."

"I think I can get on board with that," she smiled wider. "Go on, then," she kissed me as I opened the door. "Get out of here you tease."

"I'm not," I feigned.

"Yeah yeah," she leaned against the door. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Good luck with your meetings."

The door closed behind me and I found a new vigor for life. We'd never talked about it, but our sex life basically dried up once I started chemo. It was my fault for feeling so horrible and exhausted and sick, but I couldn't help it, and Emily was a good sport about it. But I would think about the days spent locked in her tiny apartment in New York, or mornings before class during Uni, or nights at her place during college, and I would feel so angry at cancer for taking that away from us for now. But today was a big day. My girlfriend was having another showing and people already loved her work, and I was going into work for a few hours.

I'd been lucky enough to work at a job that understood what it meant when I got sick. I worked from home, pitched ideas and did the prep work as opposed to presentations and meeting with politicians and groups as I had been doing initially. But the research and the work kept me busy and it kept me optimistic and I was grateful for all of it.

All of that echoed in my head while I took a cab to the office. I didn't trust myself to make it both ways on the subway. I had to be realistic about my body. I would probably work for a few hours and catch up and talk to my boss. I managed a few days per month, and it was a sane change of pace from being locked in the apartment, or the three block radius of our place.

"Hey, Naomi," the secretary greeted me as I made my way to the office. "How are you doing, honey?"

"Real good," I smiled. "I'm just going to be back here for a bit," I said, making my way past her to the desks.

I spent my morning sorting through the files that got passed to my desk and making small talk with many of the people in the office who I hadn't seen in a while. I got caught up on what my group was working on in person as opposed to email and phone calls, which was nice. I drank coffee and laughed and caught up on the office romances that man of us watched like a soap opera. There was something to be said about a change of scenery.

My colleagues were happy to see me and everyone was kind. Mostly I was glad when it all waned and I was able to sit at my desk, return emails and just do whatever I want even though it was the same thing I could do from my couch. Emily only texted me six times per hour, which was quite remarkable for her.

"Yeah?" I answered the office phone. I assumed it would be Emily since I told her I would refuse to text her back again.

"You have a guest at the front, Naomi," the secretary informed me.

"Alright..." I said, confused. "Tell them I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Okay, no problem," she said as she hung up.

Hurriedly I packed up my bag, grabbing a few new folders and my notebook. I was already tired, though I wouldn't tell Emily that. I would sleep until it was time to meet her at the gallery and I would take an extra painkiller beforehand because I wasn't going to miss a second of her. I said goodbye to my colleagues and told a few of them that I would see them that night, before I made my way to the lobby.

"Well, look at that," I whistled, turning the corner. "A proper ghost."

Effy stood from her seat and straightened her skirt, unwrinkling her blazer at the same time.

"I thought you might be Emily, here to take me home," I observed, shouldering my bag completely now.

"Are you heading home now? I can walk with you," she offered. She spoke much more quickly than I was accustomed to ever hearing from her mouth.

"I'll take a cab."

"Right, well," she nodded. Awkwardly we stood in the middle of the lobby. "That's a lovely cap."

"Oh this?" I said, touching it dumbly, forgetting that it had become a permanent feature on my being. "I'm a trendsetter."

"Not the word I would have associated with you ever before," she gave me that grin. That cocky, Effy grin that made me smirk conspiratorially as well.

"Turns out they don't make a cancer-chic line anywhere," I shrugged, adjusting the beanie slightly with a grin. Effy's smile wavered and she stood a bit straighter. I could feel the tension spreading in her muscles. We stood quietly then, not awkwardly, just quietly. Her eyes were everywhere but my face. I stared her down, suddenly feeling the power I knew she was used to possessing.

"Let's share a cab home," she offered.

"Alright," I nodded, following her to the elevator.

It was a quiet ride to the ground floor. It was a quieter few minutes while she flagged down a cab. It was even a quiet minute when we climbed in and gave my address, but I was grateful to be sitting and eager to crawl into bed.

"I'm sorry," Effy said, looking out the window.

"What's that?" I asked, turning to her primly constructed pose. She swallowed and turned to me.

"I'm sorry I let you down," she said, firm and clear.

"You didn-"

"I did," she stopped me. "I was there. I saw you sitting there, and the nurse was putting in the needle and you were wincing, and I saw you lay back when she left and you just looked around, waiting for me."

"I thought-"

"I saw your haircut, and I saw your face and I saw the other people in their various stages... and I just..." Her eyebrows knitted and constricted and her fingers dug into her leg. I watched her breathe, close her eyes and open them again. "I couldn't sit beside you and watch that happen."

"You mean like when I visited you when you were in the crazy house?" I asked, suddenly feeling a bitterness that I hadn't expected or thought I could possess.

Effy had been distant and I hadn't seen her since before that appointment. She'd called a few times, made plans and canceled a few hours before they came to fruition. She sent me flowers and candies. She texted me a few times. And I let it slide off my back because I wouldn't want to be around me if I were her. But in this moment, I realized that I would have been around her if she was me. Emily was around me and I'm sure she didn't like seeing me like this. But you show up for the people that need you, even when you can't. You just do.

"You mean like when I held your hand when we were in uni?" I asked again. "Or when you slept in my bed because you were afraid? Or when I held your hand at Freddie's funeral? Or when I cancelled my plans with other people because I was worried about you? Is that what you mean like? You couldn't sit beside me like I've always sat beside you for the past seven years?"

Effy looked out the window again at the city passing. Her head shook slightly and her jaw ground against itself.

"Yeah," she nodded finally. "And I'm sorry for that. Truly sorry."

"You were supposed to be my best friend, Eff," I sighed, scratching my head. "I've needed my best friend. And this fucking disease has taken away so much shit from my life. I didn't expect it to take you away, too."

"Everyone I love dies,"she said, so seriously and so angrily I felt a sad snarl almost in the words.

"Well, it takes more than a few fucking tumors to kill me," I yelled a bit, my words growing with my apparent deep anger and resentment with the situation. "I've needed my best friend for all of this. My mum is fucking crazy, she calls me every day. Work is a battlefield of balancing being a patient and trying to be taken seriously. Katie... I repeat... Katie is being civil to me. And Emily is literally driving herself into the ground with fear and worry about me. And all I can do is make cancer jokes and tell her I'm alright when sometimes I feel like my veins are being ripped out of my skin while I'm still alive, and like my nerves are being frozen and then ripped apart, and my mouth tastes like I'm sucking on pennies, constantly, and that I am afraid, too. But I'm alive, and this is my life now, and I needed my best friend to help me, and she couldn't even sit with me and make jokes about year old magazines in a clinic for a few hours because I got a fucking haircut or give Emily just a few hours free from worrying."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm here now."

I was quiet after that, both tired and confused by the outpouring of words that came. I hadn't realized I'd thought those things. I hadn't realized I'd felt so much and hid it to protect Emily. I disliked Effy more for not helping me with all of it.

"I've heard that already," I spat. "Thanks for the lift."

The cab stopped in front of my building and I couldn't move. I got out without looking at her. I closed the door and tried to imagine that I closed all of my bitterness with it, but it was a surprising bitterness that just stuck itself to the roof of my mouth, no matter how much I tongued at it and tried to get it off. I didn't like it and I didn't want it. It wasn't constructive.

"I am here now," Effy said behind me as I opened the door to the building. Reluctantly I let it close again and I turned to face her. "I am here for the rest of it. I am your best friend and I have failed and I have been horrible and you have been a steady fucking source of strength for me. It's my turn to do that for you."

We were stuck in a staring competition, measuring and sizing and professing. I took a deep breath and scratched my head again.

"I'm still livid," I realized.

"I know," she nodded.

"You really fucked it up, Eff," I sighed, shaking my head and looking at the ground.

"I know."

"You're lucky I need a best friend too much to hold too much of a serious grudge."

"I know."

We stared at each other hard. I could feel the anger ebbing in my jaw. I felt relieved and I felt confused all at once.

"Do you want to take a nap? I'm exhausted." I finally said. It was pointless to fight Effy. She was my best friend. I knew what she was. I knew who she was. And with that, she knew me as well, and that's something that just doesn't go away. The fact that she was here now was miraculous. I knew she couldn't handle what was happening. But who could? I just bottled the anger up and hoped it would wash away with time. We both got punished because of the sickness.

"Yeah," she nodded. Neither of us smiled or showed any emotion.

"Pay the guy, come on," I turned back to the building and went inside, not waiting for her.

Ten minutes later, we were climbing into my bed, neither having said anything since I told her to pay the cab driver. For a few minutes we just laid there quietly, separate and together, forgiven and bitter. I took off my cap finally and turned towards her. She mimicked my pose. It felt like we were back in uni, far away from who we were becoming.

Slowly, Effy reached her hand out and touched the side of my head. She laid her hand flat against my skin. I watched her watching her hand. She was intent and urgent and mesmerized.

"I saw some of Emily's pictures," she said, not moving her hand or eyes.

"They're pretty good, huh?" I closed my eyes and felt the weight of her hand fully.

"They're amazing," she whispered. "You promise you're not going to die?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I promise."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"I swear to god, if it happens again, I will kill you," I mumbled. I heard her chuckle slightly.

"Emily would beat you to it," she laughed.

"That's true," I muttered.

When I woke I knew instantly that I'd been asleep longer than I'd anticipated. I could almost hear Emily's voice in the back of my head telling me that I'd pushed too hard in spending the entire morning at work and then fighting with Effy... I just rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands to attempt to silence those told-you-so thoughts.

In the dark that had descended outside, I turned on the lamp by the bed and was relieved to see that I still had time before I was to meet Emily at the gallery. I was more relieved that I still felt as I had in the morning and I wasn't hurting or nauseous.

I found Effy reading on my couch. She pointed at the sandwich she'd made for me on the counter. We spent the evening getting ready and filling each other in on what we'd been missing, and I gave her one of Emily's dresses to wear so she could accompany me to the gallery against her will. I had to use the guilt while it was still on my side. Effy didn't feel guilt for long.

For just a little while, it was all very normal. We arrived at the gallery and mingled in the crowd. I introduced Effy to my friends and colleagues. She even got slightly sidetracked when she realized Emily's movie star friend, Sarah was there. I left the two of them together talking about some director I'd never heard of, and I went in search of Emily. It was her night and it was our night, and it was more successful than I could have ever imagined her being when we were seventeen. Emily had somehow found something that gave her purpose and that she was better at than so many people. She did it gracefully and she did it so well that she was able to give back. There were people falling over themselves to work with her. She made friends with movie stars. She took pictures that were in publications that went all over the world. I could have never imagined it for her five years ago.

The clinking of glass and clearing of throats brought a quiet into the downstairs of the exhibit gallery. I gave up searching for her on the packed floor of the exhibit.

"If I could just have you all for a moment," Cooper stood at the top of the stairs, glass in hand, and quite dapper in his tux. "Thank you," he said as everyone quieted. "I have been given the honor of introducing the artist for the first time in her London debut. I had the honor of doing this in New York nearly a year ago, and to see the ways in which Emily has grown, both in her art and in her self have been an amazing experience. I am so happy to see so many of you here, and so humbled to be a part of this cause and exhibit. I would love to tell you what I think of it, but I think it best if I hand it over to the woman of the hour. She is going to hate me for this part," he clapped a bit and everyone joined it. "I'm sorry to do this to you, Emily, but tonight requires a bit of your words."

I saw my girlfriend standing sheepishly beside him. I could feel the smile on my face. It grew big and slow and beamed without any effort. I wanted to walk towards her, but I stayed rooted in the middle of the floor, sandwiched between an editor who told me about her mother's death from cancer and a gentleman who was supposed to be an art dealer. Emily took a step towards the railing of the stairs and looked at everyone below her, mesmerized by their faces.

"Thank you," she smiled. "I don't want to keep you long, but I thought I would say a little about this experience and thank the people who have been so gracious in helping me and for putting up with me before I ask you to turn out your pockets before you leave." There was a good laugh from the audience while she regained her fortitude.

"This all started because I just wanted to take pictures of the girl I love and our life together," she continued when it died down. "It just so happened that our life together included cancer. I won't be cliché and call it a blessing or a curse. But I will say that no matter what it is, it has allowed us to meet so many wonderful people, many of whom allowed me to be an intrusive little shit and take pictures of them." People laughed and Emily swallowed.

"I've been racking my brain trying to think of something to say that mattered. But instead I only realized how selfish of an endeavor this started out as, as I'm told that all art is said to begin. I was terrified of losing the one thing in life that I couldn't stand to ever lose. I wanted to remember every minute, even if she hated me waking her up by taking pictures." Finally, Emily found me in the crowd and I earned a smile. I gave her a wink while she composed herself a bit more.

"But it turned into something else. It turned into me seeing and watching both our relationship and Naomi herself, in a new way. But soon these feelings and revelations moved outside of just us. I found myself calling my mother again. And I made the effort to keep in touch with friends who moved away, but who stepped up for us when we needed support. I didn't get as angry at my sister or red lights or the barista who got my coffee order wrong, as much. I'm not a saint, I still get ridiculously annoyed at traffic and alarm clocks and jerks on the subway." Again people laughed and watched her, caught by her words and her persona.

"But in taking pictures of the girl I loved and our life together which happens to include cancer now, I realized how much love is just sitting around, wasted until it is too late. I think that is a special theme and bond shared throughout the families I got to meet and who were kind enough to let me in and watch their experiences as well. I think it's our silver lining. We all learn this knowledge through fire and earn it through battle. There is this shitty situation, but in it, you learn that little secret that not many people get to uncover. That there are untapped wells of unimaginable love being wasted on the living. I hope that is what you take away from this exhibit. I hope I let you in on that secret."

The applause was loud and disorienting. Emily smiled and looked at me for a moment, giving me the most adorable and surprised smile, as if she couldn't understand how her heartfelt words were important or touching or magic, pure magic. I clapped my hands so hard it hurt. She might never know that what she said made everything more worthwhile than anything else.

"Now, I'm told that you can make checks out to the Fund, or you know, just drop an earring or watch or necklace in the donation bucket," she offered, taking a step back."Empty your pockets and I hope you enjoy tonight!" she finally said with a wave as everyone continued to clap.

I watched her hug Cooper and a few other people at the top of the stairs. The murmurs around me were of amazement and awe. I felt the same way.

"I was looking for the orange beanie," she somehow wormed her way near me as I made my way towards the stairs.

I gobbled her up before I could respond. I squeezed and hugged her and kissed her cheek and kept her snug and mine.

"You are the most miraculous and wondrous thing," I whispered, not letting go. I felt her head duck a big and her arms slide around me.

"You're not so bad," she murmured into my shoulder when she came up for air.

"This is probably the only positive side of this whole situation," I realized.

"It changed our life," she informed me. "And I wouldn't trade a minute of it."


	8. Tuesday, September 16

**Tuesday, September 16**

_There's gonna come a day when you'll feel better._  
_You'll rise up free and easy on that day._

"Look at how easy this is," I gestured, picking up the splayed book, folding the top corner of a page and closing it again before gingerly placing it on the counter. "Seriously, Noams, I know you can do it."

"I was just trying to make this place feel like home," she shrugged, barely looking up from the manuscript on the couch.

"Can't you read one the whole way through?" I asked, her flipping of the page exacerbating my annoyance. "There are..." I paused and counted the books tucked in spaces around the loft. "Six, open books right now."

"I like to read with breadth," she informed me with that smile. "Plus, they inform each other and I only need parts of some."

I gave up the fight and she returned to her book. I watched her languidly adjust her legs and settle more into the couch while she held her book open on her chest. In these moments when I was most annoyed by her I still kind of loved her. And most of the time I hated feeling like that. Someone shouldn't be able to frustrate you so completely and still make you love them. I was ultimately alright with it. Mostly because I did the same to her and she struggled more with it than I had to.

"You're supposed to be helping me unpack," I sighed, closing her book and sliding on top of her. Her skin was warm from the autumn sun that still fought with a bit of summer to stay in the sky. I dug my nose into her collarbone and imagined I could smell the sun there.

"It is unpacked," she insisted. I heard the pages settle on the floor with a flop. Her hands ran up my sides and intertwined with my ribs through my shirt.

"Putting the couch in its spot and opening a box of books you need to sort isn't exactly settling in," I insisted. My ear found her heartbeat and I counted in four time like a waltz. One and two and three and four and one and two and three and four and one and two and one and two and one and two.

"Oi," she squeezed and tickled indignantly. "I did most of the kitchen yesterday."

"You start work in a week," I reminded her. "I'm afraid we won't get fully and properly moved in before then."

"Em, we are mostly moved in, it's your studio that you don't want to set up," she realized. I grumbled and hid in her shirt. I felt her laugh in her chest and her lips kiss the top of my head. "Yep, that's what I suspected."

"So many wires and junk," I grumbled. "I don't even know what to do."

"Well don't take it out on my books."

"We could make out for a bit," I offered, lifting my head.

"Yeah, or you could go upstairs and finish so you can have your meetings somewhere," she debated.

"You're choosing a book over me right now and passing it off as selfless benevolence," I insisted.

"I am choosing to have a girlfriend who doesn't insist on inviting guests to our flat when she has a huge, spacious studio she doesn't want to set up," she decided. "And that's exactly what will happen tomorrow when you have John and everyone over."

"You don't know-"

"I do know," she smiled cockily. "You'll have everyone come down here and these are meant to be separate spaces. Work upstairs, play downstairs. Plus I have to read this for work."

"You don't start for a week."

"I'm not going to be behind," she scoffed. "What kind of aide would I be if I wasn't aware of what we were trying to legislate?"

"One that doesn't have a sexually frustrated girlfriend?" I asked hopefully. I earned an eye roll and that was it. "Alright, fine. I'll go unpack and slowly die from bed death."

"Get out of here with that," she swatted at me when I jumped up. "I think the past few days we've spent 'christening'," she threw up the air quotes while she leaned over to find her papers. "Means you're no where close to bed death."

"That's how it starts," I sighed, faux melancholy on my face.

"I'll come check on you later," she promised.

"Yeah yeah," I shook my head and closed the door to our apartment behind me.

The stairs that led to my studio were next to our place. We'd looked at fifteen properties before Naomi gave up and told me to pick because she didn't care enough. So when I forced her to come with me to the seedier side of town and showed her the old former garage building she was less than impressed. But I told her I wanted it and she asked if she could have her own library. Case closed, papers signed. It'd been a battle and a half to get her to agree to move at all since I was the one who bought it. But I insisted that if I bought it she had to come.

She was right when she said that we were mostly unpacked. There were still the odd set of boxes stacked here and there, but other than that, we moved in quite easily. I was putting off my studio because it felt so formal and it felt so out of place for me to have. I struggled with the locks and could barely open it, on top of it all.

The space was big and wide and I still had so much to put up that I decided to start in the easiest corner where my desk would be and busied myself with cords and computers and charging stations and the boring logistical side of operations. I hated unpacking with a passion.

The studio was necessary though. I had work now, coming in at a relatively steady basis. I even had offers to travel to a few different countries. But everything outside of the immediate city was on hold until I heard the word _remission_ from the doctor's lips. And we were expecting that at the next appointment in a few days. Even after that I wasn't sure how much I wanted to take any jobs that required me to leave. I wanted Naomi to be officially healthy and I wanted a full year of never hearing the word _cancer_ or _chemo_ and her going to work and being passionate again about something that was non-cancer related. That was why I was so grateful she decided to take the job as the parliamentary aide. She might have spent the past year dying, but now the next year was going to be hers, and I didn't want to miss a minute of it. Plus, I'd had my years. I'd spent the past two years developing and figuring out what I could do and making connections. We had to grow together.

"Hey, Em, I think this is yours," Naomi called as I started to test the power and rigging for the electronics at the desk.

"What, love?" I said, sliding out from under the desk. "Oh my God! Yes!" I stood up and met a squealing Sarah. "What are you doing here?" I asked as I squeezed her.

"I just got in yesterday and I heard you got a new place," she said, both of us hopping a bit.

"I'll leave you to it then," Naomi waved from the door. "Nice to see you, Sarah."

"You, too, Naomi!" she said happily.

"Thank you, love," I called behind her.

It'd been about two months since I'd last seen Sarah, and it'd been rough. She'd been someone I'd grown accustomed to having around and she was actually what felt like a friend. She was unencumbered with a sordid past like the rest. And she was kind of only my friend, as selfish as that sounded. She was my friend just like Naomi had her own friends, and it helped. When she left I realized how much I missed our occasional lunches and dinners and going out with her just for a bit. She filled something for me that was important.

"God, it's so good to see you," I sighed, letting her breathe.

"Are you surprised?" she asked with a laugh.

"You told me you weren't due in until next week, yeah, I'm a bit surprised," I finally fully let her go. "Here, take a seat," I looked around at the starkness of my studio and finally just pulled out my desk chair. I sat leaned against the window.

"We wrapped on time," she explained. "So I thought I'd get home and I had to see the new place."

"Well," I sighed, gesturing with my arms. "As you can see I've done a lot to it."

"It looks good," she promised. "I got a peek at the flat. It looks amazing."

"That's mostly Naomi," I shrugged.

"Speaking of..." She gave me a nudge.

"Can't you wait two minutes before you jump right in?"

"No," she shook her head. "I have to be at a dinner and I have rehearsals all week, and I don't have time to be coy. It's been too long and we've both been too busy."

"Ah, so I was just a stop on the tour?"

"Yes, now come on. I'm drying to know how everything's been. I haven't talked to you in ages. Not properly, at least."

"You're the one heading off for another movie soon," I reminded her, fiddling with the window pane joint behind me.

"Boring stuff," she shrugged. "You showed me a ring," she leaned towards me, looking to the door to see if Naomi was anywhere to be seen. "And I haven't been able to concentrate on much else about you. There's the move and all, but forget that."

She was right about that. I had it tucked in the back of my jewelry box, just waiting to come out. It wasn't big or showy, and on a good day I was convinced she'd like it. I just couldn't bring myself to ask. This year felt like a roller coaster, and I didn't want that as the starting point for our life together.

"Haven't gotten around to using it yet," I nodded nervously. "I was kind of waiting for things to calm down."

"I don't know how you haven't exploded with it yet," Sarah laughed, leaning back in her chair.

"I dunno, the whole sick thing and then the work I've been doing with the Fund and my own work and Naomi and chemo and her work, I just haven't found a moment that has felt good enough." I mumbled and shrugged again. It was nerves, pure and simple. "I was afraid she'd die."

"You guys are so cute, and I want to see the ring on her finger, I'm dying," she explained, exaggerated and outlandish. "What have the doctors said?"

"It looks good," I nodded, hearing the words didn't make me sure yet, not until it was official. "We have an appointment on Thursday to check the scans. I'm trying not to get too excited."

"Get excited," she nudged my knee. "Seriously, get excited. I met you like a year ago and you were so nervous, and you killed that shoot, and you're my favorite, obviously." I laughed a bit. "And you have a girl you've loved since... when?"

"I think I was twelve," I realized with a grin.

"Okay, so you have spreads in _Vanity Fair_ and _Rolling Stone_ and you've put on a great exhibit, which I loved," she smiled and played up her talk. "You have the girl, who I really like, by the way. And you have this new space and house. And well, you got me, which is probably the best pick up of the year."

"Your modesty is what really drew me to you," I played along.

"Just ask her," she urged.

"What's your urgency?"

"I don't know. I just saw your exhibit. And I see you two together and I want you to get together and be the perfect couple I can idolize forever and you can have cute little gay babies and take my picture when I win an Oscar." We both eventually laughed at her wishes. "I don't know. I just want love to work. I want to see it work. I want to be hopeful and excited and in love with life again."

"Ah," I nodded. "Things aren't going well with Jack?"

"Pfft," she waved her hand and sat the chair back on all fours, her long legs stretching out and her shoulders concaving in disinterest. "He's old news."

"Do you want to...?"

"We will drink and have a proper wallow another day," she dismissed my concerns. "I came to catch up and see this new place, not mope."

Inevitably we got to talking and found ourselves on the floor of my studio. She told me about her work and gave me dirty details about what it was like to be an oh so glamorous actress. She told me about her mum and her dinky ex. Mostly it felt good to just talk to someone who I enjoyed and who I knew me as I was now as opposed to who I'd ever been. For Sarah, I was this photographer who had potential just like she did, and I'd been confident and done my work well and had a nice life that I'd somehow assembled. It was nice to be that person in someone's eyes.

But I could feel a sadness in her now, that was oddly foreign to how I'd known her. Her last role had been intense, which is why we hadn't spoken often or much. Her next was only slightly less daunting. When I thought of how I first saw her in the first film, it struck me by how violently she poured herself into something. Only now after knowing her for so long could I see the wear and tear and fading lines it left on her. And then she would smile and shake her head and turn back into the girl who made me laugh really hard and joked about the worst things.

"No, it gets worse," she explained as she held her hands up to make me try to stop laughing. Her head rolled around my lap. My arms were aching from holding myself up, so I laid down and looked at my ceiling for the first time. The sun was growing tired outside, slipping its way down the big windows.

"It can't," I laughed.

"No, it does," she assured me. "I have three more auditions and he has me doing these ridiculous scenes, and then I just stop in the middle of one, throw down the props and just walk out. I just left. He called me that night."

"Well I wouldn't advise trying that for each audition in the future," we giggled.

We sat in the big, expansive rom that would soon become my place of work, where I earned my money, where I did my projects, and I felt suddenly like the teenage girl in me was here again, looking around, scared of what was before her and unable to believe that anything like this was possible. It was a magical moment. It was a moment that felt important and Sarah didn't even know it. This was it.

"I should probably call my driver and head to dinner," Sarah realized as we quieted.

"I should probably see what Naomi is doing," I realized as well. "Sometimes I'll leave her perfectly fine on the couch, and next thing I know she's taken up knitting or rearranging the sock drawer or gone off to the store. Sitting still is something she still hasn't mastered."

"You make her sound like a toddler," Sarah laughed, standing and helping me to my feet.

"I don't mean it like that," I assured her. "I just mean sometimes I'm never sure what is waiting behind our front door."

"That's kind of exciting though," she tried to find a bright side. I agreed. "So, walk me out? I'll stop and say toodles to Naomi."

"Yeah, come on," I opened the door and started to lock it behind us. "Too much bonding and we'll fall apart when you have to jet off again."

"You know I came for the bonding and something else as well," She let out a big breath. I shimmied the lock like I was learning how and finally pulled the keys out.

"Ulterior motives, seriously? My company isn't enough?"

"Nope," she shrugged. "I need a favor."

"Here it is," I smiled and stalled at the top of the stairs.

"My friend in LA is opening a gallery," she started. "And she would love it if you would open there."

"Oh, that's all? A gallery on the other side of the world?"

"I'm just the messenger and her in," Sarah insisted as she dug in her purse. "Think about it. Ah," she stopped me from interrupting. "I mean really think about it. LA is another world."

I stared at the card that I was handed and flipped it around between my fingers.

"You know I'm going to pass on it," I finally looked up at her. Sarah had eyes that fell somewhere between grey and green. She didn't say anything but just let me slip the card in my pocket and start down the stairs.

"I knew it was a long shot," she finally decided as we stood in front of my door. "But I just wanted to let you know that you are sought after, and you have options."

"That's sweet and all," I nodded, waiting with her. "But I finally feel like I have only one option and it's to be here. I don't want to be away for even a few days. I want to be home and actually _be_ here."

"I wish I could stay," she nodded. I let it drop at that.

Naomi was in the kitchen, dishtowel on her shoulder and stirring in a pot. She invited Sarah to dinner graciously, and I liked that. Her sleeves were rolled up and all of the books that'd found their way around the apartment were stacked beside the couch. We said our goodbyes to Sarah and I walked her to the door when her car arrived, promising that we would get that drink as soon as time would allow it.

We had dinner and sat at our new table in our new flat. I remembered when we were in New York and I asked Naomi if she ever thought we'd make it here. I wanted to ask her the same thing. Instead I complimented her cooking and shared the wine and told her about Katie's last date. She'd been so sure that we'd get to New York, that'd we make it through uni, that'd we make it through cancer, that'd we'd make it through moving. I knew she'd be sure and believe that we'd be here.

"I'm exhausted," I yawned into Naomi's shoulder as we watched a movie. She flipped another page in her book.

"How far did you get unpacking?" she asked.

"Pretty much everything," I semi-lied.

"Good, because your mum wants to come have lunch tomorrow," she said. I saw the sly smile there. I moaned and dug my forehead into her arm. "She was quite civil on the phone."

"Because you have cancer," I shook my head and let my muffled words die in the fabric of her shirt.

"There's a silver-lining then," she chuckled.

"I have meetings," I came up for air.

"I told her," she sighed, closing her book. "She said you'd make time for your mother."

"Dammit."

"It's just lunch."

"Can't I have lunch with your mum and you have lunch with mine?" I batted my lashes and puppy dog begged.

"Jenna has never scared me," she shrugged. "I have nothing but warm fuzzies for her."

"I suppose I'll have warm fuzzies again once I'm out of this phase," I nudged her a bit.

"It's about that time," I said, looking at my watch-less wrist.

Naomi put her arm around me and squeezed me to her.

"We had a good run," she nodded, betraying herself with a smile. "What do you say to one last romp then?"

"I don't like pretending," I shook my head and squeezed her back. "You should be a phase forever."

"I wouldn't bring that up at lunch tomorrow," she pulled me down on the couch. "I think there's still a bit of hope in your mum."

"At least Katie gave up on that," I grumbled, situating myself around her.

"I actually think I've grown on her and vice versa," Naomi yawned this time. "Hooking her up with Noah didn't hurt. And the whole making you happy so she doesn't have a reason to kick my ass."

"You might have to work your magic on Sarah. Jack was a dick." I nudged my shoulder and tried to get comfortable.

"Maybe I should start a company."

We laid there knowing that we should go to bed. The movie just played and I ignored it because I was tired and I was just plain happy in this moment. I looked around at our mostly unpacked place from the couch. And the ceiling was just the floor of my studio that I got to hang out in with my good friend. And right here in this building, for the first time since before I went to New York, I felt very much where I was supposed to be.

"Our life has always been a roller coaster and there is never going to be a moment of normalcy," I realized aloud.

"Except right now," she offered.

"Except right now," I agreed.

The night nearly a year ago came back to me then. It was fresh in my mind because of Sarah, and it kept poking my brain. I was glad to move because our last apartment was haunted. The bathroom where I took Naomi's hair. The front door where she told me. The living room she could barely make it to some days. The bedroom where she shivered and shook. It was all too much.

"Hey, you know I love you, right?" I shifted and watched her eyes open. "I love you even though its a roller coaster and we're all over the place. I love you because we get these moments." This was becoming my moment. I sat up and watched her tired smile and lazy yawn. "I think you're the smartest, most kind, most beautiful person I've ever met. And I like who I've been with you and who you make me be."

"I know all that, you tell me all of the time," she insisted, adjusting her head and moving the pillow under her shoulders. My fingers played with the fabric of her shirt.

"I just need you to know that last year I was so close..." I stared at my fingers. "What I mean is, for the future, forever, I want you. And I don't have to plan a fancy dinner with flowers and candles." I swallowed hard and met her eyes. She was confused and watching me. I took a deep breath. "There's no time like the present. And I'm sick of waiting for the right moment. No matter what comes at us, I want it to be us. I love you, Naomi Campbell. And I want to know if you'd do me the-"

There was a loud knocking on our door and my teeth snapped shut. I groaned and let my head rock back on my shoulders.

"Just stay here," I told her as the knocking continued. "Don't move." I waited until she nodded and stood up.

The banging continued the entire time I made my way to the door. True to her word, Naomi didn't get up. She just waited for me where I left her, possibly working out that I was going to ask her to marry me on a Tuesday night while a horrible rom-com played in the background. I was slightly embarrassed, but the words started coming and the wouldn't stop and I didn't want them to. I didn't care what the proposal story was anymore. I wanted the what came after.

"Yeah?" I asked as I swung it open. It took a moment, and even then, my mouth moving and forming words surprised me. "Fucking fuck," I whispered and swallowed at the same time it felt like.

"Hello," James Cook smiled at me bashfully. "Is Naomi in?"

My jaw had been slack, so it I closed it again. I knew it was Cook. His hair was longer, shaggy and unkempt, and a significant beard covered his face, aging him significantly. But there was that smile and those eyes. It was like seeing a ghost.

"Em, it's me," he said as I stood there, paralyzed. "You can't have forgotten your ol' pal, Cook, right?"

"What are you...?" I managed, still not moving.

"I saw your pictures," he explained, looking past me, trying to peak into the apartment. "She's sick, huh?"

"She... You... What?"

"Is she here?" he asked.

"Naomi, I think this one's for you," I said, looking back over my shoulder to see her sitting up a bit at my quiet and long pause at the door. Cook didn't move until I opened the door wider.


End file.
